Disclosure
by Cairi J
Summary: /RE-WRITTEN/ "You are a selfless woman, Tifa. Selfless people are often victims to their own care… They forget to leave any for themselves." There is an intricate journey mapped for two unassuming comrades, and they will take the joy with the pain. V/T
1. Haphazard Contemplation

_**A/N: **Here we have a tale re-written over and over! THIS IS THE LAST EDIT I PROMISE, but also the biggest one. This story is indeed active, contrary to what it may seem, it's just a very big story that I started years ago. Still close to my heart! I've edited the existing chapters very heavily, so be sure to re-read if that applies._

_NOTE: Narrative perspective will change throughout the story, and this is visible in chapters, marked with a divide in the page._

* * *

Our story is set roughly 7 months after the events of _Advent Children_.

While Midgar and Edge are restored, the minds and morale of everyone else gradually follow suit.

Eight friends still hold each other dear.

But when sentiments change into those you thought you never had, or even disappear - it's difficult not to feel like someone's altered your entire genetic makeup.

:

_**Chapter One – Haphazard Contemplation **_

Tifa awoke to silence. Her eyes opened slowly, not delighting in the sight of her new bedroom – heated inadequately, and bare - not as much her own yet as she would have preferred. Out of the window, there was only a very dim light to hint at early morning. Sure enough, a glance at the bedside clock confirmed it was barely 5 a.m.

Few hours of sleep and even fewer things to do lately had rendered her slightly bemused, and she felt as though she floundered about, watching days speed past her. She'd taken a break from the bar and left it in the charge of Cloud and one of her friends; her excuse was that she needed time to settle into her new apartment, but in hindsight, she wasn't entirely sure if it was a good idea. It deprived her of things to keep her busy.

Sighing softly, Tifa hauled herself out of bed and pulled on her bathrobe. She stood next to the window a while and watched the weak light of the dawn turn into a slowly-rising sun, its yellow rays peering around distant skyscrapers and filtering through polluted air into the city. Sunrises were dirty-looking here, and she wondered when she'd be able to get out into the open and see one burst over grassy hills, bright and clean.

Little things like this seemed to mean more to her as time went by and there was less to do.

There had been an air of optimism in Edge City since the Geostigma passed - and she thought on how her circle of friends had expanded to include those that, only a few years ago, she'd have given a sharp right hook over a sweet smile any day. It hadn't been expected, but after Reno and his quiet accomplice Rude decided on a whim to aid Cloud those months ago, contact between them all had simply… continued. She'd been surprised when they showed up one day, having heard she was leaving her tiny flat above the bar, and offered to help her move her stuff out. They were almost a team now. _Almost_.

But while the Turks came further into her life, others had sidled out. She knew that some had their own matters to pursue, such as dear Cid: "_I'm gone for a few months. Piloting stuff. Don't shit yerself if you don't hear from me for a while. Seeya!"_

Spritely Yuffie Kisaragi had been relentlessly phoning them up until about a month ago. From then on, those calls had been replaced with the occasional text message. But Tifa also understood Yuffie had become involved with the launch of the World Regenesis Organisation, so she let her be.

_Oh yes…_ WRO. Founded by Reeve. Another person she hadn't heard from in a long time. And Nanaki? Probably safe and happy back home in Cosmo Canyon, such as Tifa hoped. But these wonderful people could always be called upon, should they ever be needed – or missed.

Then there was the least approachable of their friends.

He had left three days after the advent of Sephiroth. Before Vincent departed, he had spoken to Tifa and Cloud more so than was usual for him. And just when Tifa thought he was beginning to open up to them, he was gone.

His leave-taking was swift, his purpose unclear. Tifa hadn't known really whether to expect and accept it, or to be disappointed he hadn't stayed longer - she had enjoyed being reunited with all of AVALANCHE. But there was one difference between the reaction of Tifa and that of her friends: that they didn't seem to think much on Vincent Valentine's shaded disappearance.

Suddenly aware that she had stayed at the window for about an hour, Tifa sought to get herself washed and dressed. She would go for a walk around the city centre today - perhaps even meet up with somebody. She was a sociable creature, or at least she thought so – she wondered if she needed conversation today simply because it took her mind off other things.

After she'd showered and put on something light and comfy, Tifa headed downstairs. She was about to open her front door before her mobile phone began to ring in the pocket of her denim shorts. She answered it to an unmistakable gruff voice.

"Hey Tif, Barret here."

"Hi!" Tifa smiled. "This is a rare situation. You're awake before 11 a.m."

"Funny." replied Barret. "This time it was Marlene's stereo. Ten past freakin' six, how is that a nice time to wake up?"

Tifa couldn't suppress her giggle. "Early morning'll do you good once in a while. How are you guys, anyway? The kids doing okay?"

"Yeah, we're cool over here. I just called to ask when you're good to take 'em back to your place."

Tifa frowned slightly. "Anytime, really… Why, is there something up?"

Barret laughed. "When is anything up these days, huh? Just wanted to know if you're good to look after them this weekend - latest. Got some more surveyin' work to do over at the oil wells. That okay wi' you?"

"Always is." said Tifa, opening the door. "I'll see you guys over here on Saturday, then."

"Sure. Later, Tif."

Tifa hung up and set out of the door. She looked forward to seeing the two children, her makeshift family. Her little bit of reality, keeping her feet on the ground and keeping everyone together.

The air was close and warm outside already, even at barely 7am. Crowds were scarce at this time. Tifa peered upwards at the scaffolding and listened to the sounds of building work resuming around her for the day. Restoration, following the damage done by Bahamut – but work that had advanced further in seven months than in the three years following Meteorfall.

Her mind, however, wasn't on any of the sights.

Tifa neared the square, passed by the monument and went across to the sidewalk. There were only a few cars passing by; Edge wasn't a 'morning' sort of place. One of the vehicles – a sleek black convertible – was slowing down beside her. Thinking it was probably some person about to ask her for directions, she stopped and waited for the window to roll down. When it did, she came across a recognizable face.

"Bright and early."

She stepped up next to the car as a bald man with his usual black shades leant across to look out of the window. Tifa smiled placidly. "Morning, Rude. Out on business?"

"Not 'til later," he shrugged. He was a man of little words.

Tifa returned a tiny smile. She then peered inside the window of the car. "Where's…"

"Reno?" interjected Rude. "I was about to ask you the same question."

"How much of an answer d'you expect?" said Tifa with a wry smirk. "It's Reno. He could be anywhere, right?"

Rude smiled vaguely and shook his head. "Idiot's pager hasn't been reachable; he's probably still asleep. Never mind. Anyway… You headed anywhere in particular? I've time to give you a lift, if you wish."

"Nowhere to be today, Rude." replied Tifa, not immediately aware that she had sighed that sentence rather heavily. "Just taking a walk. But thank you all the same."

"No problem. I'll see you around, then. Oh, and if you see Reno - "

"I'll tell him to page you." smiled Tifa. "Have fun."

Rude raised his brow, but lifted a hand to her before winding the window back up and driving back off again. Tifa watched the car speed around the corner and out of sight, inwardly wondering exactly where Reno had got to. He was unpredictable – the only consistency being that he was always with Rude. Tifa smiled wryly as she speculated on how the relationship between the three of them had gone from heated battles to pleasant morning chit-chat.

Tifa walked on and on, further from habitation and into the graveyard of Midgar's remains, where eventually she was met with the comforting sight of a flower-adorned church ruin. This place, that held so many memories – good and ill – was something she cherished. The blooming flowers on the walls caught the sunlight, glowing like a mountain of wealth and treasures… They always gave Tifa some peace, and above all, provided her with some connection to nature in an urban wilderness like Midgar.

As Tifa entered the church, she watched the dusty rays of sunlight filtering through what was left of the stained-glass windows. She walked a while among the flowers, nearing the old pews that had been left untouched and host to sparse cobwebs. There was a peaceful quiet...

"Great minds think alike?"

Tifa started momentarily, and then smiled at the familiar presence that greeted her from several rows away.

She met Cloud's friendly face with gratitude, moving to settle herself on the pew he'd taken. He looked at her with a smile - warmer than was characteristic for him.

Tifa began swinging her legs in and out in front of her. "Welcome back. I'm guessing it was a good road trip, since you've been away a good few days."

"I needed it." He smirked. "Fenrir is a little worse for wear. But it was beautiful out there… Not something you realise in times of hardship, right?"

Tifa grinned. "I guess multiple apocalypses ruin the spectacle somewhat. Anyway… It's good to have you back."

Briefly, she felt the muscles in Cloud's arm tense up as she leant up against him. She didn't think much of it, as it wasn't long before her kindly gesture was returned.

"How's things at the bar?" He said quietly.

"Moved all my stuff out," she replied, "with the help of Reno and Rude. I'll come help you decorate upstairs soon if you like. If it's gonna be your own space, you might as well make it interesting!"

He half-laughed. "Can't argue with that."

Tifa paused, absently flicking at a button on his shirt. "…And the nightmares?"

Cloud took in a breath and looked upwards. "Gone."

They smiled at one another. Together – at least these days - they weren't overly conversational. Their understanding of one another was the tie that bound them.

He was like family. That hadn't been good enough for Tifa for a very long time, but this too was something she had begun to question. She couldn't ignore years of longing, of friendship - but after more recent events, their bond had changed. Misting over their tension and young lust – though remnants of that lingered - was something she likened almost to the connection between two siblings… at least to her. She wasn't certain of Cloud's view of their relationship. She only knew that for now, she was content with the uncertainty.

They spent most of the morning in the chapel. Between enjoying the sunlight and the flowers and each others' company, they spoke occasionally of things Cloud had seen on his travels. Need for sustenance eventually took them back to the city centre, however, and they continued their sparse conversation over breakfast.

There was a contented pause before Cloud began to stare at the sky and narrow his eyes in thought a while.

Tifa looked at him. "What're you thinking about?"

Cloud shrugged and put his hands casually behind his back. "Dunno. Things just tend to pop into my head."

Tifa smiled in curiosity. "So what is it this time?"

"I guess I just wonder where everyone's got to." Cloud mused. "Haven't heard from a lot of our friends lately."

Tifa looked ahead, suddenly feeling just a little less cheerful. Today it seemed Cloud was indeed like-minded, except the manner in which he spoke made his contemplation seem slightly trivial… Like he was just mentioning it as a means of polite conversation. Tifa felt much different from that.

"How long did Cid say he was away for?" asked Cloud.

Tifa shrugged. "He only said he'd be back as soon as he'd sorted this _piloting stuff_ out."

Cloud raised his brow and smirked. "I'm happy with that. Good thing it's so easy to get hold of them… You'd need a miracle to get hold of Vincent, though. He's a whole different story."

Tifa all of a sudden felt herself grow tense at the mention of him. There was an abrupt feeling of heaviness in the pit of her stomach that would have made her frown, had she not quickly replaced it with a look of polite interest. "Why would you say that?"

"Well, he never really did make a big thing about leaving." replied Cloud. "Hasn't bothered speaking since, unlike the others."

Tifa looked at the floor, having a sudden yet grim thought. "But… didn't he get a phone shortly after he arrived here?"

"Yeah… he did." Cloud frowned suspiciously. "Never gave me his number, never contacted my phone. It's a little creepy if you ask me, but then again, this is Vincent. He's like some big, quiet old shadow… I suppose it's only to be expected."

Tifa said nothing. She suddenly found a strong urge to scowl at Cloud; to say something in denial of how he had spoken about Vincent… But thought against contesting her friend so soon after he'd arrived home. Instead, she pursed her lips and nodded briefly.

Apparently satisfied that any discussion on their friends was exhausted for now, Cloud continued to stare ahead, leaving them both to walk on in silence a while.

Tifa wasn't sure what to make of this unexpected, sharp reminder of Vincent, and she didn't know how or why it had just suddenly jumped into Cloud's head; now of all times. But _why_ now, after several months of never even bothering to bring Vincent into a conversation?

_Why now, _she thought, _when I'm starting to wish he'd kept speaking to us like the rest?_

_:_

Cloud walked Tifa back to her apartment in the evening, his arm around her shoulders.

When they eventually stopped outside Tifa's apartment, the sun was setting. Tifa paused at the door before entering, and pulled Cloud into a gracious hug. She was received with warmth and contentment, and it seemed as they stood outside the doorway that Cloud wasn't in any hurry to break their close embrace.

"I'll check over stock at the bar," he mumbled into her shoulder. "Then I'll head to bed. Can't remember the last time I was so tired. Delivery backlog can wait 'til morning."

Tifa looked up at him with a smirk. "Thank you. Don't spend too long on it. Sleep is precious, so treat it as such!"

Cloud smiled warmly. "I intend to. And so should you – you look like you haven't slept in days."

"I'm fine. Just restless lately. Should go back to normal soon enough."

For a moment, uncertainty crept into Cloud's blue eyes. But he nodded. "Go hit the hay."

Tifa winked at him in acknowledgement, and then turned to open her door. Casting him a small wave, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.


	2. The Unforseen

_**Chapter Two – The Unforeseen**_

As Tifa headed up to her bedroom, her thoughts bombarded her enough to make sleep an unrealistic notion, at least for now. So she decided to head back downstairs and… Well, do what? She didn't want to watch TV, and she wasn't hungry… But she wouldn't sleep. It was barely 9.

As she reached her living room, Tifa could hear a car parking in the residents' lot outside her apartment. She waited a while, to hear the car door shut, and eventually someone knocked on her own door.

_Could that be Cloud again? _she mused.

Sighing, Tifa walked across the room and opened the door. She was surprised to be greeted instead by a lanky young man sporting flame-red hair and a roguish smirk.

"Not intruding, am I?" Reno said, stubbing out a cigarette with his shoe and casually placing his hands in his trouser pockets.

Tifa smiled. "Matter of fact, I was thinking of calling the hounds."

"Goldfish don't class as household security." Reno grinned. "Besides, didn't they die like a month back?"

Tifa rolled her eyes. "Very funny. So what's up?"

He shrugged. "Just came to see how you were."

Tifa furrowed her brow, but smiled curiously. "You know from my point of view that's a little creepy."

"C'mon Tif, I ain't stalking you." he replied. "I was about town and thought I'd stop by, see how you're settling in. Also - Rude told me he saw you in the street this morning and said you seemed kinda down."

Tifa stared at him. _Oh no… Did I really look that miserable?_

"You sure you're okay, Tif?" Reno asked, brows raised.

She wasn't sure what to say. He was a friend, but did she really want to lumber all her problems onto someone else? "Um…Yeah. I'm okay, I guess."

Reno frowned. "About as likely as your goldfish razing me, by the look on your face. Which is usually smilin', by the way."

Tifa gave a soft half-laugh and shook her head. "…D'you want to come in?"

Reno nodded and entered the living room. "Only for a little while, though. I gotta meet Tseng and Elena later on."

"Business or leisure?" asked Tifa.

"Dunno. But because Tseng's there, we'll probably be talking about office conduct and _the appalling way in which I keep my workspace_."

Tifa grinned. "You never know, Reno. He could be promoting you or something. Or buying you a drink, at the very least."

Reno gave a derisive snort. "Mmm. Again, likelihood being about as much as -"

"My goldfish-"

"Yeah."

Tifa paused, then snorted with laughter. "I get the drift."

Reno winked and slumped down on the couch. "Anyhoo, my partner said there seemed to be something up, so naturally I came to investigate."

Tifa looked down momentarily, sitting herself. Heck, if Rude had noticed this, she must've had the longest face in history. "I guess I'm just a little stressed. I've been busy, but I'm on my break now, so I should be able to… you know, cool off a bit."

"You need some sleep, probably." replied Reno sincerely. "You do look kinda whacked, y' know."

Tifa sighed and ran a hand over her forehead. "It's been a little difficult lately."

"What has, Tif?" Reno asked, sitting forward and resting his arms on his knees.

"Sleeping." Tifa mumbled. "Sometimes I just can't. I don't know why, exactly."

Reno gave her a concerned look. "Man, that sucks. I guess what you gotta do is just close your eyes and try and shut everything out. Like meditation, but not as boring."

Tifa smiled faintly. "Sometimes I wish I could, you know, shut everything out. It just seems to keep nagging."

"Ouch, I get that sometimes." Reno replied, shaking his head and cringing all of a sudden. "But I usually solve that with a vodka. Or five."

Tifa laughed weakly. "Be great if it didn't come with a hangover."

Reno sported his usual cheeky grin. "Just don't let it get to you. It's a case of relaxing, yo."

Looking up at him gratefully, if a little forlornly, Tifa nodded. "I'll try."

Reno smiled, and glanced at the clock on the wall. "Aww, crap – I gotta run now. Try to settle down, huh Tif? You'll be okay."

He gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze and got up from the couch, setting off towards the door.

"Thanks, Reno." Tifa said quietly.

Reno left her with a wink before he shut the door.

Tifa sat alone in the living room, listening to his car drive away from the area. She felt worse than she'd been this morning.

Not because of Reno. Heck, she was grateful for his concern and the fact he even _was_ concerned felt heartening. It was just the fact that she was probably worrying people by now… And she knew sadly that, whatever Reno's intentions, his advice was not enough to help her sleep much easier.

But the least she could do was rest. She sure _wanted_ to sleep now… She just didn't know if she could.

Tifa headed back upstairs to her room, got changed, and lay down in her bed. Shutting her eyes, she tried to purge the memories and contemplations from her head. She wanted to doze off. Forget.

How much effort would it take?

:

She could see blue, and red, and ripples of something between water and smoke… Fire, suddenly, blazing and crawling up the walls of small buildings – beloved homes – torched and destroyed. Eyes, cat-like and green and narrow, then blue – then ruby. They changed in a flutter, and she felt herself fall… Flash of silver, and a sound that sickened her: a blade driving through flesh. Laughter, cruel and cold. Then warmth… and that red again… Whose familiar face was that? She continued falling, reaching out, and a hand that may or may not have been there suddenly disappeared – black and cold, falling -

Tifa awoke with a start. She was suddenly aware that she was lying halfway down her bed, her feet hanging limply over the edge. The covers had been thrown over her head, so that she woke up to dark and stuffiness. Picking herself up, she straightened the covers and walked over to the window, hair plastered to her forehead. She shivered. It had only just gone midnight.

She never cared to hang onto the last images of bad dreams, but there was a face imprinted in her mind, and it was framed with black. She had an inkling as to who it might've been, but she wasn't sure why she dreamt of Vincent – if it had been him. Perhaps, deep down, she worried.

Suddenly, something bit at her chest and a lump rose in her throat. _Gods, he could be anywhere._ He was a tragic case, admittedly, but he was their friend - _her_ friend - and she had no idea where he could be or what his intentions were. He didn't even want to be contacted. And it didn't even seem like anyone else gave a damn.

Was she the only one? Was she _crazy?_

_Does _Vincent_ even care what happens to himself?_

Burying her face in her hands, Tifa gave way to a sob. It seemed irrational but it was all things at once: worry, frustration, exhaustion – all things she hated, and all things she tried to avoid at all cost.

She had to get outside. She needed some air. Not bothering to change out of her nightclothes, she threw on an old black button-up sweater that was far too big for her and set out of the house. It was cold, but she didn't care. She just needed a walk to clear her mind.

Tifa wanted to be somewhere where she could see the stars. They were only tiny, weak glimmers through the light pollution over the city, but so long as she caught a minor glimpse of them, she didn't mind. She knew the best place for this was indeed the square, by the meteor monument. So she set off immediately in that direction.

Feeling the need to pull her sweater more tightly around her, Tifa stared around at the unusual absence of cars. There was not a soul around. This was a lucky thing. All she wanted was to be alone for now. Alone from people, and above all, alone from her thoughts.

If only the thoughts disappeared as readily as the day's population.

She hoped she would find a bit of peace here. Perhaps when she had done looking at the stars, she would go to the old church. The city was open to her now she was alone.

The breeze drying the tears on her face, Tifa came around the corner and approached the square. The moon was out tonight, casting a soft, cold blue luminosity over everything in her path. The monument stood in its immensity in the centre, its shadow darkening almost everything behind it. Tifa decided to sit on the steps at its base for a while.

As she approached silently, she hoped her mind would be cleared somehow. It would be hard, but now that Cloud was coming to terms with everything, it was time for her to do the same.

How would she learn to quell her insufferable _care?_

As Tifa drew close to the meteor monument, something odd caught her eye. There was something at its base. On closer inspection, it revealed itself to be a person. _Oh, no... _Tifa felt her heart sink. _So much for being alone._

But there was something strangely familiar about this hunched, brooding figure. Tifa squinted at it as she approached silently, apparently unnoticed by whoever was sat on the top step. She progressed out of the shadows, carefully moving for a better view, aided by the moonlight… And the sight made her heart jump so hard that she nearly jumped herself.

Everything came flooding back to her - She was staring, as though it was the first time all over again, at the blood-red cloak, the long, thick black hair… the glint of that gauntlet on the left arm.

Tifa, rendered momentarily motionless, couldn't quite absorb realisation that hit her like a freezing river. For whatever reason, she then mentally confirmed the owner of the face she'd glimpsed in her dream.

"Vincent?"


	3. Remembering

_**Chapter three – Remembering**_

The echo of Tifa's voice seemed to carry itself through the atmosphere, and seemingly reached the ear of the man sitting alone beneath the monument. He raised his head, slowly turning around to look at her. His height made even more of an impact as he got to his feet in a sweeping movement, facing her.

"Tifa?"

She could have run over to him; perhaps greeted him with a crushing hug and scolded him for not having said a word about his apparent return – or for not contacting her. That is, if such a tactile greeting wasn't so entirely inappropriate for Vincent.

Instead she stood nonplussed at the opposite side of the monument, watching with baited breath as her friend began to walk closer to her. Before she knew it, she was staring at the death-pale face that she was sure she dreamed about. The glinting ruby eyes that seemed fathomless and wise beyond his looks. He was almost exactly how she had last seen him, had it not been for the fact that he now looked a little whiter, wearier – slightly puffy-eyed, as if he'd missed a good chunk of sleep. But there he was, staring at her as if he, too, was trying to remember how she looked when he had left her.

"I…" Tifa started, her voice becoming lost. She was close enough to blabbing about how much she had worried for his safety, but replaced it quickly and unskilfully with: "It's… You're here, after all this time! Where have you-"

"A long way from here." was his instantaneous reply, his voice a soft low monotone. It was strange how the sound of it was such a comfort to her.

"I never expected you'd…" she was lost again. She covered her sudden need to burst into tears again with a disbelieving smile. "I was just taking a walk around the city, and the last thing I imagined to see was you."

Vincent gave her that gentle look that, for him, constituted a warm smile. "I gathered. I didn't mean to alarm you."

Tifa ran a hand over her forehead. "Well… I just wondered where you had been all this time. You left so quickly that day."

He simply looked at the ground.

Tifa was going to ask what exactly his seemingly pressing duty was, but quickly decided against it. "So nobody knows about you coming back here?"

"Not yet." Vincent replied plainly.

Tifa felt suddenly rather sad. _So you returned as quietly as you left, Vincent, _She thought (and almost said, but decided against that too).Why, though? Was it that he didn't feel he mattered enough to anybody to let them know?

"Do I find you well?" he asked, even though in his face was an analytical sort of doubt. She wouldn't have blamed him – she probably looked like a hospital escapee.

"Yeah, fine." she answered, producing another feeble smile. "What about you? Are you okay?"

It was as though such a question was a novelty to him. Tifa wondered if anybody had bothered to ask him before. He paused as though he had to think hard for a suitable answer.

"Fairly well."

Tifa gazed at him. "But you look so tired."

Vincent cast his eyes away from her. "I have… travelled a long distance. But it is nothing to be troubled about. I'll be able to catch up with myself."

Tifa smiled weakly again. But she was no more reassured.

"On my way here I was looking at the work that has been done on the city." Vincent continued. "It amazes me how much can be done in only a few months."

"We're getting there." said Tifa. "At least people can live here properly now."

There was a pause.

"Would you like to walk with me for a while?" she asked.

Vincent looked at her, and simply nodded.

They walked out of the square and back through the lanes. Tifa felt like the cold had been banished from her. How this moment had happened, she had forgotten. Quite honestly, she didn't care.

"Cloud will be so pleased to see you." she said.

"I anticipate meeting him again." replied Vincent. "Who else has stayed here?"

"Barret, the children, and of course the Turks." Tifa said. "Reno and Rude have become friends of mine - as usual we have the kids to thank for that."

"Better that than animosity, I suppose." Vincent cast her a look over his high collar. "How is Cloud now?"

Tifa paused. At first, she wasn't sure what to say. "He's… a changed man. All talk and smiles these days. You wouldn't know he'd fought a single battle."

Vincent seemed furtively content at this. "It's good to know he has tried."

Tifa smiled and nodded, getting the feeling there may have been a previous discussion between the two men some time ago that still held meaning. She left it alone.

Seeing Vincent looking around at the new buildings, she chanced a gaze back up at him. Tifa was small next to this tower of a man – who would probably have intimidated other people; heck, she'd have admitted she was one of them, once upon a time. Now, he was a familiar presence, more to be marvelled at than feared. At least that's how she saw him.

But at the same time, Tifa also felt perturbed by what he always endeavoured to conceal about himself. People had said in the past that he was devoid of emotion. Tifa didn't believe a single pathetic word of it. _How could an emotionless man have so much concern for us; so much regret and so much love for someone long gone?_

That thought sent a short twinge – more of discomfort than of pain – through her chest.

But Tifa, ever fascinated, wanted to see past Vincent's enigmatic guise. How and when it would happen, she didn't like to contemplate. The thought seemed more than a little far-fetched at the moment.

They walked through another alleyway, and Tifa was aware that she was leading them both back to her apartment. Well, it was warmer.

"I don't think I have ever been in this region of the city before." Vincent mused, looking at the new housing facilities.

"The area has been changed a bit." Tifa said. "It does get a little isolated, because no-one I know lives here any more. But I'm not really that bothered. I guess I learn to live with it."

Vincent turned to look inquiringly at her. He even looked vaguely surprised, in his own sort of way. Yet he said nothing, and looked ahead again. She knew herself that it was very unlike her to welcome solitude, and Vincent was probably speculating on this.

They eventually reached the apartment. Tifa went to open the door, and had entered halfway, only to turn around and find Vincent still lingering outside.

She stared at him with a merciful smile. "You can come in, you know."

Vincent obediently entered, looking at his feet as he stepped inside. Tifa had to pity him. By the looks of it, he wasn't that used to being invited into people's houses.

It certainly felt a little strange seeing him standing in her living-room. His crimson eyes were scanning his surroundings, occasionally stopping to look intently at old photographs and childrens' drawings pinned up on the walls.

Tifa turned to go into the kitchen. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you, Tifa." he replied, resuming his staring at the walls.

Tifa sighed. "Nothing? Not even a glass of water?"

Vincent paused, and turned to look at her. "Alright. Yes, water. Thank you."

Tifa retreated to fill him a glass from the tap. She returned to the sitting room and handed the glass to him.

"Are you okay, Vincent?"

He stared at her out of the corner of his eye. Anyone would have thought he had found this question almost shocking. But Tifa knew inwardly that it had probably been years since anybody had bothered to ask him.

"I do not know why you worry." he answered, his voice dismissive yet somehow uncharacteristically awkward.

Tifa felt her insides plummet. Why was he so unconcerned about himself? "I guess I just get those feelings."

They met each other's eyes for a moment. Vincent seemed to be peering questioningly at her over the top of his collar.

"Sit down a while." said Tifa, cutting through the silence. "Like I said, you look tired. I don't expect you to stand."

Again Vincent complied and went across the room, buckles clinking as he sat on the couch. Tifa turned away from his gaze, suddenly feeling extremely low. She walked over to a nearby window, and started gazing out of it, even though nothing outside was really worth looking at.

There was another long silence. Tifa didn't know what to do. She could find no enthusiasm to make idle chit-chat. She didn't even wish to talk about Cloud, or the kids, or what was going on… She just felt a futile quietness come over her. And she was now aware that her eyes were burning slightly.

She didn't want herself – or their meeting – to be like this. It was upsetting.

"Tifa?"

His voice was gentler, quieter now. Tifa was not sure what to make of it all. Nothing more than grim confusion filled her mind, and she looked down at her feet.

"Something is troubling you." Vincent muttered.

"I'm… I'm fine." Tifa replied meekly, knowing that she'd probably never sounded less 'fine' in her life. "I just… don't quite know what to…"

She trailed off. Her eyes would not come away from the floor, and they stung with tears that were fighting to escape. She swallowed against the painful lump in her throat, and absently drew her arms around herself.

"I quite hoped that I'd find you as content as you usually are." said Vincent.

Tifa said nothing. She didn't know _what_ to say.

"You're crying."

She hadn't noticed, but sure enough, the tears had found their way down Tifa's cheeks. She was fighting harder and harder to keep this in. "I…"

"Has my arrival been ill-timed?" Vincent asked tentatively. "Has something happened?"

"No, no…" Tifa shook her head, the tears falling to the floor. "It's not that at all… It's me. I…"

She paused again. Something was screaming inside her, yelling at her to break… She wouldn't let herself break, she couldn't… But she was fighting a losing battle to conceal a growing realisation: she was beginning to feel _sorry for herself._

Surely she wasn't going to pour this out at Vincent, of all people?

She closed her eyes, feeling it take over. "We won back our safety. Cloud's fine… I've got this apartment. I've got a life of my own. Space. Friends and family. I shouldn't be crying. I shouldn't be sleeping like five hours a night, or having weird dreams - I should be happy and – and…"

Tifa's conflicting emotions threatened to plunge her into grim, teary misery. _No, not now…_ She refused to start blubbing her eyes out in front of a friend. Especially _this _friend. _He must be feeling so awkward…_

So her mind screamed ferociously at her for what she subsequently did. She began sobbing. The tears fled her eyes in warm, continuous streams.

Before getting lost in her quiet crying, Tifa turned cold when - out of nowhere - she felt Vincent place his unadorned arm gently around her shoulders.

For the first time, he had made physical contact with her.

She forced a shaky breath of air inside her. His hand moved hesitantly around her shoulder blades, and before she knew what was happening, she found herself enfolded in his arms; leaning deep and close into his chest.

Vincent seemed to want to let her crying subside, yet his body was rigid and tentative against hers – Tifa wondered how long it had been since he'd held someone like this. But she just knew that _this_ was something she hadn't even considered a possibility before. She did not dislike this new, bizarre floating sensation, or this unfamiliar musky scent mingled with worn leather - or the way she felt as though she would fall slowly forwards; drift into him like a ghost…

"You tended to everyone," he murmured into her hair, "to all your friends and to Cloud in his sickness, to the children in theirs – but not, on any account I recall, to yourself."

She closed her eyes, speechless. There was an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach as she clung onto him, listening – powerless to contest his words, because deep down she knew he had a point…

"You are a selfless woman, Tifa," Vincent continued. "Selfless people are often victims to their own care… Because they forget to leave any for themselves."

She breathed out unsteadily. She didn't know what to say. Perhaps she didn't need to say a thing.

His chest heaved with a sigh. "This is you here, now, deprived. Not in any material way. I think you know what I'm talking about."

And she nodded, gripping tighter on his worn cloak. There was a long silence.

Tifa sniffed. "Then maybe you wouldn't be surprised to know that I worried about you. We couldn't reach you - "

"Not tonight," he near-whispered. "Tonight, you rest."


	4. Ethereality

_**Chapter four – Ethereality**_

Tifa opened her eyes to soft sunlight filtering through the window. She was aware that she was lying on the couch in the living room, a blanket draped over her… It could only have been Vincent who had done that. Was he still here?

Slowly, she sat up and peered down to the end of the couch, smiling all of a sudden… He had tucked the blanket beneath her feet. Then she saw him, sitting in a chair by the window – and the relief warmed her. He seemed not to have noticed that Tifa had awoken, and had his chin rested thoughtfully on his hand, clearly immersed in his own thoughts.

Tifa felt like it would be a little rude to talk at that moment, for Vincent looked so completely absorbed in his contemplation that she thought she might disturb him if she spoke. Instead, she moved her feet off the couch and sat upright on it for a moment, watching him. The morning light made his face look very different. She always thought he looked a little out-of-place in the daytime, least of all in the living room of an ordinary city apartment, on what would look to anyone else like an ordinary morning.

"How did you sleep?"

Tifa almost jumped at the sudden sound of his deep voice, and before now, she wasn't aware that Vincent was now looking directly at her. She jumped out of her absent contemplation, soon feeling extremely silly.

She cleared her throat, gathering composure. "I slept fine, thank you."

It wasn't a lie, either. She felt like the night hadn't happened - not even a remnant of a dream lingered.

Vincent gave a slight nod of his head. "You must have been tired. It was only when I began to find it harder to keep you upright that I realised you were already asleep."

Tifa felt the hot colour rise in her cheeks. _I fell asleep on him. I friggin' fell… asleep ON him. _"Ah… Vincent, I'm so sorry - "

Vincent quietened her with a casually raised hand. "It was probably a good thing you were sleeping at all."

Tifa blinked. _For someone characteristically so indifferent, he sure seems to know what's going on with me. _"Well…"

"I can only assume sleep hasn't been a terribly welcome thing for you lately." he added. "But sleep also undoes many grievances."

Tifa looked down, a weary smile on her face. "You're the better judge."

Vincent kept his eyes on her. He said nothing more, but she could tell he was thinking deeply again. What about, exactly, was a whole other thing… That complex mind of his was a boundary that Tifa would need a miracle or two to cross.

"Thanks for tucking me in." Tifa said, with a bigger smile. "All it needed was a bedtime story…"

Vincent gave a soft, short exhaling sound that would have passed off as the smallest half-laugh. "For your sake, sleep was probably a wiser action."

Tifa giggled. He wasn't a joker, but she enjoyed whatever he decided to show of his dark wit. "I should go get dressed," she said, getting up from her seat and yawning contentedly. "I won't be long. We can go and meet Cloud later if you want to."

Vincent nodded. "I would like that."

With a grin, Tifa departed to her bedroom and began to rummage around for her clothes. Whilst changing, she replayed last night's encounter over and over in her head, wondering if it had indeed happened – if she was still in her bed, dreaming lucidly about a reunion she realised she very much wanted. And if it was still a dream, she hoped she didn't wake up any time soon.

:

* * *

He had watched as she ran up the stairs; that girlish spring in her step bestowing her a joyful innocence that he had always found intriguing, yet it had always made him feel uneasy. Someone so frivolous, placed next to him, was like looking at black and white… Night and day.

Vincent turned his head back towards the window, listening rather than looking. His acute hearing could pick up the sounds of people far away locking their doors, setting out into the town… And Tifa's faint footsteps from upstairs.

He listened out for the smallest, most insignificant of things. Her feet fell quietly along the floorboards, yet particularly hastily. She did not have to hurry for the fear of leaving him waiting. He could wait here for a long time.

He had spent the entire morning so far thinking of yesterday. Surreal may as well have been his middle name, but for whatever reason, he felt now as though he was recovering from being drugged. Had he indeed taken himself to Midgar, unassumingly, and ended up with a young woman crying herself to sleep in his arms?

_But it's only Tifa_, he told himself.

And she had been about to mention how 'they' had all attempted to reach him; how she herself had _worried_.

…He struggled to accept he was _that_ greatly missed.

Vincent blinked, hard. Now was not the time to slip into contemplation. Since when had he let the emotions of others cause him to question why they were so? They were human emotions; that was all, and it wasn't as if he could control them.

"The kids are coming to stay here at the weekend."

Tifa's cheerful voice came from the foot of the stairs, taking Vincent by surprise not only for her very sudden entrance, but also because he was aware of the femininity of her clothing – a cotton vest, and a pale blue skirt. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen her wear much else than black leather.

_**Pretty little thing, isn't she?**_Chaos intervened.

_I don't want you in my head right now,_ Vincent silently retorted. _Be still._

_**Come now, my dear and miserable host. Let me help you! I hear the ladies can't resist a whisper in the ear…**_

_Don't be vile. Harass me another time… not now._

_**Fine, ignore my good advice. Stumble along by yourself. It's what you do best after all…**_

Vincent ignored the demon's nagging voice. Swiftly coming out of a time lapse and casting this thought aside, he nodded at Tifa. "Denzel and Marlene?"

She smiled. "Yeah. You don't mind, do you? I'll make sure they won't get in your way… I know you like your peace and quiet…"

For a moment, Vincent frowned slightly in mild confusion. "Why would they..?"

"Oh." Tifa bit her thumb. "I forgot – I was going to invite you to stay here… You know, just for however long you need to. I insist. It's the least I can do."

"I am perplexed as to what you think you owe me."

She gave him a lopsided smile. "…Damages? For freaking out, falling asleep on you and possibly drooling on you with absolutely no warning? I dunno. Either way, there's a little spare room upstairs that you're more than welcome to use…"

He wasn't sure what to say. He felt slightly bemused.

"We could set you up somewhere else if you'd rather - "

"The spare room will be fine." Vincent interjected, a little hastily for his liking. Had that been a good idea? "I will not get in the way, I hope." _And neither will you, Chaos – or so help me…_

"In my way?" She frowned. "Hell, I hope you're not gonna lock yourself away in there! This isn't a bedsit – this is a house for you to use as much as I do."

Anyone else, he probably would have contested. But with as headstrong, genuine and insistent as Tifa was, he found himself able only to nod in agreement. He was relieved to see her smile beamingly in return.

"Then it's settled! So, what do we need…" Tifa began to mutter – seemingly to herself – "Clothes, towels… New bed linen. I need to write this down." Before Vincent could enquire, she had taken herself off to the kitchen and taken a piece of paper and a pen out of a drawer. "We can get it all at the market today before we meet Cloud… Or maybe this evening? No, perhaps it'll be too busy…"

"Tifa," Vincent said quietly, looking into the kitchen and observing her rapidly scribbling a list onto her piece of paper, "You really don't need to-"

"Sorry?" she asked, turning around and giving him a placid smile.

_**Play along for once, you dull fool.**_ interjected Chaos. _**It's called being "accommodated." I'd know that better than you.**_

Vincent paused. "It's very kind of you to go to the trouble."

"Oh, it's no trouble!" Tifa grinned, finishing her list. "I think it'll be good for you, actually. You know, to get some new stuff."

Vincent didn't quite know what to say. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this…

_**Looked after? Cared about? Drat, now you can't mope in a corner for the rest of the day! Whatever shall you do?**_

_Any other time, demon – NOT now._

…_**Grouchy bastard**_.

"And I could give that cloak a quick wash as well – the hem looks muddy." Tifa continued, inspecting it briefly.

"Tifa…"

"And a patch-up. I swear there weren't as many holes as that when I last saw it."

"Tifa."

She stopped, and looked at her feet momentarily. "Vincent, just… Let me, okay? I know it seems like I'm making a fuss, and maybe I am… But it's no problem for me. It makes me feel better if I can help people out."

He couldn't really oppose that. "I understand."

Tifa smiled appreciatively and placed the small list in the breast pocket on her dress. "Let's get this stuff bought before the noon rush. I've got no car at the moment, so unless someone can give us a lift to the market, we've gotta walk there… You don't mind, do you?"

Vincent shook his head. He was too used to enduring great distances to care about not having transport into the centre of Edge.

Tifa smiled briefly before taking a small black bag off the counter and slinging it over her shoulder, making her way out of the kitchen. Then, abruptly, she stopped and clapped a hand to her forehead as if she had just remembered something important. "Oh, I totally forgot… How silly…"

Vincent lowered his brow and quickly moved out of the way as Tifa darted back into the kitchen and pulled a few things out of the fridge. Before he could speculate, a small bottle of water and something wrapped in tin foil was shoved into his hands.

Tifa, going back and taking the same items out for herself, grinned at him in his puzzlement. "I knew these'd come in handy. Have one as we go along. Don't worry – I haven't poisoned any of it."

Vincent stayed silent and perpetually taken-aback. This seemed to be a feature of amusement for Tifa, who began to giggle.

"You can try and refuse food all you want, but I'm not letting you skip breakfast." she chirped, stuffing her own small foil package into her shoulder bag and going to open the door. "Most important meal of the day!"

However reluctant he felt, Vincent knew he could do nothing more than act in accordance with it all. Her cheerful assertiveness was something that he and their group of friends had learnt not to go against, because it simply wasn't the done thing around Tifa.

But _shopping?_ Vincent couldn't remember the last time he'd been shopping. Come to think of it, he doubted whether he had ever done it… Well, properly, anyway. It was clearly a typical, everyday event for Tifa, who now owned her own apartment and had to look after both that and herself.

He wasn't sure how he would go about this. Perhaps he would just follow Tifa.

"Ready?" she asked, her face practically breathing optimism.

Vincent merely nodded, and then they were out the door of the apartment, walking past the houses, up the alleyways and nearer to the city centre. All the while, Tifa's face seemed to glow, as if she couldn't be happier to have some company. The whole situation was a little strange – eerily domestic. For the first time in so long, Vincent would be taking on a mundane task - going somewhere that held little significance.

This might turn out to be more difficult than it sounded.


	5. Wandering, Wondering

_**Chapter Five – Wandering, Wondering**_

Tifa looked back every now and then to smile at Vincent as they made their way towards the market just outside the city centre. Vincent took it to note that he was lagging behind at times. He didn't know why. He didn't even consider himself a slow walker. Since his awakening in Nibelheim, he had often felt like the world was moving faster than he was, and every time it happened he assumed that it was just an effect of his immortality. But this morning, for some reason, the world seemed to be moving just a little faster than usual.

"Hello?"

Vincent looked up momentarily, expecting Tifa to have spoken to him, but she had her mobile phone next to her ear. She stopped in her tracks, listening intently. Whoever it was on the other line was speaking incredibly loudly – Vincent could hear the coarse male voice from where he was standing.

All of a sudden, Tifa whipped around and beamed at Vincent ecstatically. He raised his brow, watching Tifa listening to her phone, her face breaking out into intermittent grins. Then she placed her phone back into her bag, and clapped her hands together in excitement.

"You'll never believe this," she said, " but I just got a voicemail from Cid to say he and Shera are coming back here on Monday, and they're renewing their wedding vows. Hah, 'piloting'… Should've known what he'd _really_ gone away for. The old softie."

Vincent stared at her, not sure what to make of it. He took a moment to contemplate why Cid and Shera had found it necessary to do this after being married for such a short period of time. "Renewing their vows? Have they had trouble?"

"Cid just said that they'd spent too much time away from each other." Tifa replied. "So they went through a pretty tough patch. But apparently everything's right as rain now – so much so that they decided they're going to come back and throw a huge party, which they've invited all of us to."

Vincent's stomach plummeted. He had never even been that good at small social gatherings, let alone _parties_ – which, he added mentally, had not invaded his time for at least three or four decades.

He could hear Chaos laughing manically – and annoyingly loudly – at his sudden stroke of misfortune.

"So I guess it's a good job we're out shopping today." Tifa said, smiling. "We need to get ourselves smart outfits for this thing."

Before Vincent could speak, Tifa had turned and carried on walking. Sighing with well-hidden despair, he followed her without complaint.

For a moment Vincent wondered if this was going to be like one of those college Proms. Did he need a… (Did they still call them "Dates"?) Heavens, would he have to ask Tifa out? But the idea was short-lived, as he suspected that she would go with Cloud. Vincent couldn't resolve exactly what he felt about that particular idea, but he couldn't exactly say it made him feel any more optimistic…. And for a moment, he had to pause and consider how ridiculous it was that he was even dwelling on such things.

"It'll be great to see Cid and Shera again." Tifa declared as Vincent came to walk beside her. "And everyone else will be invited too, which means Yuffie will probably be here soon. I don't know where she'll be staying, though – there won't be any space in the apartment, especially if the kids are there too."

"Perhaps one of the others would be willing to accommodate her for a few days." Vincent half-mused, at the same time as hoping. Having two children running around the place was fair enough, but – to as far an extent that Vincent may have respected the plucky young ninja - having her there as well would most likely ensure the kind of mayhem that took very little time to give him a tension headache.

"Someone will have to give her a room in the end, even if it does take some persuasion." Tifa laughed. "But there's some space above the bar; I'm sure Cloud would be happy to house her."

Vincent glanced down at Tifa for a second, and then back at the street in front of him. His mind suddenly harboured a fleeting thought; a question, but one he felt would be slightly prying to ask. But then again, if Tifa had found it fit to pour out what seemed to be some of her innermost emotions to him last night, surely they could speak their musings openly to each other..?

Either way, Vincent found himself asking her. "Cloud doesn't… live with you?"

When he saw her face fall slightly, he instantly regretted speaking.

Yet a vaguely flippant expression crossed her face, and she shrugged her shoulders, still focusing ahead of her. "I felt like I needed to separate my living space from my work, so I moved out. Cloud's keeping the place above 7th Heaven – he seems pretty happy there."

"I see." was all that Vincent could reply with, before staring ahead again as they walked. Her reason seemed valid enough, but – being a generally perceptive man – Vincent didn't sense the usual optimism in Tifa's voice. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he would have said that his bringing up this small question about Cloud had somewhat dampened her mood.

He wasn't stupid. It was quite apparent that Cloud had been the object of Tifa's affections for as long as Vincent could remember. In all truth, he wondered why the two young friends were not currently together as a couple – but that was something he would most definitely keep to himself. By the look of it, however, Vincent had probably not been informed of something. Had she and Cloud fallen out over a matter that Vincent hadn't been there to know about? Oh, how he wished he could have kept his mouth shut...

_**Damn… Upset the lady, have we?**_

_I do NOT need your input._

_**You always were so smooth in your dealings with the opposite sex…**_

_You are pushing it, Demon…_

_**It's not as though she would ever go for someone as brooding and boring as you anyway. But she does look rather nice… Why don't you introduce her to me?**_

_Look, if that's meant to be funny -_

_**Oh, I'm not joking. I'd love to meet her… Face to face…**_

_Silence!_

_**She has such a pretty neck, don't you think?**_

_Don't –_

Vincent abruptly ducked his lower face deeper into the collar of his cloak, attempting to conceal gradually elongating canine teeth. His heart skipping a beat, he bit down hard against them until it stung.

_**Think she'd like to see your wings?**_

_Stop this! Why HERE, and NOW -_

_**Oh, come on; let's have some fun for once! **_

The wings Vincent could feel fighting to burst out from behind his back began to make him lose his composure. In a slight panic, he stopped in his tracks; his hands contorting themselves into claws ready to strike... He could hear the sound of Tifa's voice, but could not distinguish any words. _Not now, demon, _he thought furiously. _NOT now._

_**I've always thought of how enjoyable it might be to bleed someone dry…**_

"_Leave_ me!"

Vincent's surroundings rapidly snapped back into focus. The dark energy was gone, as if it had never been there. Vicious fangs were now regular teeth. And there, right in front of him was Tifa, withdrawing her hand hastily from where it may have been on his shoulder. Now, she merely stared at him with a look combining astonishment and offence.

"…What?" she said, meekly; her deep russet eyes meeting enquiringly with his crimson.

No words would leave his mouth…

"Vincent?"

He shook his head; his eyes twitching irritatingly. _How thoughtless of me, _he considered. _Now she thinks she is the one I just snapped at._

Bringing his hand up to his forehead, Vincent sighed deeply. He found it hard to bear the materializing hurt in Tifa's large, dark eyes. It was a look that he never liked to see on her face, and now that he had _caused_ it, he felt as though he had committed a terrible crime.

"Forgive me." he murmured plainly. "I did not mean for you to take that the wrong way; I -"

"You looked as though you were... Fighting against something." Tifa interjected.

Vincent wasn't sure whether to tell her about his near submission to Chaos… But she already knew the truth of the presences within him, and he knew he had probably dampened the mood considerably by now anyway.

"I have no choice." Vincent muttered, his head still spinning. "The demon is looking for a way to surface, as I expected. Just understand that if I shout like that, it is not aimed at you."

Tifa simply stared at him for a few moments, her face concerned yet perplexed.

…_Wouldn't be surprised if she thinks I'm descending into psychosis._

"I had a feeling it might've been… Him." Tifa said softly. "Are… are you okay? You look a little drained."

_She's a little too perceptive._

"I'm all right." Vincent replied. Oh, yet another lie… In fact, he felt shaken and slightly weak, as if he were recovering from a virus. "That shall not happen again any time soon."

Tifa tilted her head to one side like a curious puppy. She was either suspicious or still analysing him for more signs of discontent. "Well, if you're sure…"

"I am."

Her smile was as sweet and genuine as ever, yet her face still hinted at concern; curiosity. Vincent decided he'd feel dreadfully guilty if this was going to be a source of bother to her.

"Okay then." she said humbly. "But… seriously, Vincent, you almost look worn out already. We can't have that! Come on – there's a bench over there… We can sit for a few minutes while you get some food inside you. I didn't give you that thing for nothing."

Tifa was already heading resolutely to said bench before Vincent could reassure her that this wouldn't really be necessary, but he told himself – _for the _nth_ blasted time this morning_ – that his best option was just to do as he was told. He certainly didn't want to seem ungrateful.

And so they sat, in a peculiarly companionable silence.

As they finished off strange slices of something homemade by Tifa (which tasted far better than it looked, admittedly), she looked at him in an inquisitive way.

"How d'you feel now?" she asked him.

Vincent disposed of his empty water-bottle in a nearby bin. "…Better."

She returned a girlish smirk of satisfaction. "It's weird-looking stuff, I know, but I make it with all the good stuff that boosts your energy. Feeling energized?"

"I am." Vincent proclaimed. "And thank you. Now… Don't let me delay you – we might fall into that… Noon rush."

Her smirk turned into a warm, wide smile. "Sure."

He watched Tifa as she practically sprung up from the bench, and he observed the way she smoothed out her hair and the skirt of her dress in an uncharacteristically dainty manner. They soon made their way down a small alleyway.

"There's a shortcut to the marketplace down here," she said. "I think we should get all the boring stuff done first. You… haven't come here with a single thing, have you?"

Vincent shook his head. "I choose generally not to travel with possessions other than what I have on my person."

Tifa raised her brow. "You mean, the only thing you brought was yourself and Cerberus?"

"And some money. But yes, the gun is back at your apartment. Somehow I doubted I needed to bring it to the market."

"Well I'd hope not!"

Tifa's eyes glinted as she smiled. She and Vincent eventually rounded a corner that led them to the open space of street that had seemingly become home to a relatively new marketplace. She was right in the sense that there were not many people around… and for this, Vincent was thankful. Admittedly he was never a sociable man, and today was no exception: He could always do without crowds of people.

Tifa was now examining the small piece of paper with all her listed products on it. "I figure we can get most of what we need in that household store over there. Shall we?"

"If you wish." replied Vincent, heading in that direction with her. "But… If these things are for my use, I don't expect you to purchase them."

As they headed towards the shop, Tifa stared at him momentarily before giggling. "Vincent, you're my guest."

"I have sufficient Gil for it."

"Really, I-"

"It's the least I can do." Vincent interjected. "I am indifferent – I spend hardly any of my money as it is."

Tifa sighed. "Well… if you insist, I can't argue. But if you're doing that, you let me get the rest. Deal?"

"…Alright."

Beaming, Tifa turned briskly and began to inspect the shelves for her needed items. Vincent took this time to speculate on how conversational they were being. It was a far cry from how he associated with his comrades those years ago, in times harder pressed. But here she was, chatting to him and ready to embrace him as a temporary housemate. He couldn't decide if this was unsettling or… bizarrely endearing.

"Well… It's up to you! If you're buying, you pick the ones you like!"

Vincent snapped out of yet another time-lapse, inwardly telling himself rather sternly _not_ to keep doing that.

Tifa cocked her head to one side. "Vincent, you keep spacing out. Are you okay?"

"I apologise… I'm fine. Sorry. I'll choose something."

She giggled, running a hand through her dark hair. "Careful there. People will think you're insane if you keep staring blankly at those pillow cases like that."

Vincent, made aware of how daft he must have looked, furrowed his brow and sighed. It wasn't like him to keep slipping out of attentiveness while he had company. He resolved to keep absolutely focused as he pulled a set of the linen off the shelf, inspecting it briefly before deciding it was not to be fussed upon and would do quite adequately. "Sheets."

"Okay! Pick some towels." Tifa said, pointing at the rack opposite.

A couple of them were chosen and purchased within the space of about two minutes, and soon enough he and Tifa were heading towards the store that sold whatever was required next on her list. Vincent, feeling slightly odd as he saw more and more plainly-clad people shooting him looks, was quite intent on following Tifa as solemnly and anonymously as possible. He was never one to care, but it made him wonder just what he might look like to these ingenuous city-dwellers.

The next few things on the list were very inconspicuous, so purchased within a small space of time was a replacement for Tifa's water-filter, some air freshener, and other items that might 'make living in this polluted air more pleasant', as she put it.

"Is that all for the obligatory items?" Vincent checked.

Suddenly, he saw a tinge of colour rise in Tifa's cheeks. "Actually I just need to duck into the Pharmacy for a second… Um… d'you need anything? I can go and get it for you…"

Understanding immediately that this was probably something that was beyond the common insight and appreciation of a male, he decided to make things easier for her. "I'll wait outside."

Blushing still, Tifa gave him what seemed to be a grateful smile. "Thanks. I won't be a second."

Armed with a couple of carrier bags, she briskly entered the Chemist, leaving Vincent to lean against the wall and gaze inattentively at his metal-toed boots. Where had the time gone? He felt slightly dazed.

That is, until the unmistakable roar of a motorbike and the high-pitched voice calling his name jolted him abruptly out of his thoughts.

"Hm?" he mumbled to himself, looking around.

"Vincent!" exclaimed a male voice this time. "What're you doing here?"

And it was then that his eyes met with two youthful and notably astonished faces.


	6. Ramble

_**Chapter Six - Ramble**_

Thanking the saleswoman in the Pharmacy and quickly stowing her purchases away in her shoulder bag, Tifa began to make her way towards the shop exit. She found herself so very obliged towards Vincent for not following her inside (what kind of girl wanted a male acquaintance seeing them running around looking for nail clippers, cotton wool and sanitary products? …Precisely).

Now they could focus on the last thing on her little list: Clothing. Tifa figured that Vincent would be less than delighted at the idea, but it had to be done. He was clad for battle twenty-four-seven, for goodness sake.

She exited the store. "Okay Vincent, that's all I – Oh!"

Stopped in mid-sentence by the unexpected sight in front of her, Tifa gawked wide-eyed for a moment - before being sprung upon and embraced by a small-ish someone who could only have been Yuffie. When they broke apart, Tifa noticed she looked different already; her hair was longer, her previously pale skin had tanned to light gold and her usual ensemble even appeared less… skimpy. That usual smile on her heart-shaped face, however, never failed to make her look like a delighted child.

Tifa grinned. "Wow, well look at you! When did _you_ get here?"

"Hah, we could've asked the same of ol' Vinny!" Yuffie chirped, gesturing at Vincent, who stood aside Tifa wearing a slightly withering look on his face (they were all aware of his dislike of being nicknamed – especially by Yuffie).

"…I'd be lying if I said I'd expected to see you round here, Vincent." Cloud added, dismounting his bike. "Yuffie arrived at the station this morning, but when did you show up? It's been a while."

"I arrived in Midgar yesterday afternoon." Vincent replied. "I was in Edge by night time. Tifa managed to come across me in the city centre."

Cloud nodded, but if Tifa was not mistaken, he studied her momentarily through curious eyes. She figured he was probably wondering what time it had been when she met Vincent, and also about why she could've been wandering around the city at a time like that in the first place…

"So how'd Tif manage to persuade you to come shopping, huh?" Yuffie inquired, placing her hands on her hips. "Cos this is the _last_ place I figured _you'd_ be, Vince."

Vincent gave her a look from over the top of his cloak collar. "A first for everything, I suppose. But what I'd like to know is how Cloud was persuaded into taking _you_ shopping."

Cloud raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Good question. But she convinced me I needed something to wear for… Oh, did you get a message from-"

"Yep, that's why we're out." Tifa chimed in. "That, and we needed to get some extra supplies – Vincent's staying for a while and I figured it'd be nicer for him if he had some stuff of his own."

The first thing to happen was a brief silence, which was followed by an expression of childlike wonder from Yuffie.

"Staying… Here?" she said, pointing at the ground for emphasis.

Tifa nodded.

"Where are you going to be living?" said Cloud.

Tifa noticed the enquiring tone in his voice, and all of a sudden she felt her heart skip a beat. _Damn it,_ she thought, _if I say _where_, how would this sound from Cloud's point of v-_

"Tifa offered me the spare room at her place." Vincent replied.

The man sounded so chillingly composed… As opposed to Tifa, who now regarded Cloud's expression with a rising sense of dread.

She couldn't quite place the look that was forming very slowly, very subtly, upon her friend's face. Those vivid blue eyes had narrowed for a split second - whether he intended for it to be noticed or not. Either way, tension had suddenly been flung into the air as rapid as gunfire, and Tifa was beginning to fear for the way this conversation would go.

"Well that's darn generous of you!" Yuffie grinned at Tifa, apparently oblivious to any awkwardness. "Isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." Vincent murmured, glancing coolly at Tifa for a moment.

Tifa thought she had better just smile.

"Aren't the kids supposed to be staying with you this weekend?" Cloud added.

She paused. "Yeah. My room's the more spacious of the two so they'll have spare beds set up in there. We'll manage!"

"You sure you don't need a hand? I can look after-"

"Cloud, stop worrying already." Yuffie interjected, prodding the small of his back. "Tif's all grown up y'know – she can tie her own shoelaces and everything."

Cloud's face alleviated (much to Tifa's relief), and he sighed, regarding them all with a faint smirk. "Alright, I get it."

Yuffie grabbed him by the arm all of a sudden. "Right - we're going shopping now, and there ain't nothing you can do about it!"

Tifa, seeing the expression on Cloud's face, made a fleeting decision. "Maybe you and I should go get our outfits together, Yuffie."

"Good idea," Cloud said, "because I've gotta be honest; traipsing around looking for frilly crap isn't exactly my thing."

The silence that followed was rapidly broken by a crude snort from Yuffie. Then, Tifa suddenly made the connection – and couldn't stifle her own giggle.

"Uh… You sure about that?" Yuffie muttered, grinning with an air of great mischief.

"…Sure 'bout what?" Cloud asked, warily.

Tifa couldn't help it. She joined Yuffie in a bout of shrieking laughter, watching as the grim realisation dawned on his face.

"You _told_ them about that?" he hissed at her, his eyes wide with horror.

"Only a couple of us, I promise!" Tifa replied through her mirth.

A sort of bemused frown furrowed the brow of Vincent Valentine, who eyed Cloud up and down suspiciously. It was then that Tifa realised she had not yet told him about her fond little memory of Cloud wandering around Corneo's mansion in that adorable little purple number, all that time ago…

Cloud buried his face in his hands. "You _know_ that was a stunt we pulled to try and get us out of a bad situation…"

"…Yeah?" Yuffie giggled. "So I figure the lacy undies were just a little luxury then."

Cloud's eyes practically popped out of his head. "_Tifa_ -"

"Well then," Tifa cut in, grabbing Yuffie by the arm and backing away, "Vincent, follow Cloud and get your clothes… Me and Yuffie will meet you here again in an hour, yes?"

They left the two men standing bewildered on the spot behind them.

"Poor Cloud." Yuffie said, skipping alongside Tifa. "I feel kinda bad now. You think Vinny knows about that little incident?"

Tifa produced an expression that combined a grin with a cringe. "He probably will now."

:

* * *

Vincent took a sideways glance at Cloud, who stood watching both women waltz off in the direction of one of the shops. The young man's face had flushed a shade of pink.

"In a situation like this I would usually choose not to pry," Vincent muttered, "but I doubt you can blame me for speculating."

Cloud continued to gaze ahead. He smiled wearily, and sighed in defeat. "Okay. I s'pose you'd better know before you start getting the wrong idea. Way back before Meteorfall, Tifa got nabbed by a man working for a brothel at the Wall Market. Only way I could get into the place to help get her back was to dress up as a woman and try and seduce the manager."

Vincent's eyebrows disappeared under his headband. "I see."

"So I'd appreciate it if you kept it on the hush – at least in front of Cid and Barret." Cloud continued, folding his arms. "The reasons, I'm sure, are self-explanatory."

Vincent stared at Cloud, unable to prevent thinking about what the man might have looked like. He _almost_ smirked. "Understood."

They had begun to walk away from their spot near the Pharmacy. Vincent could not help but allow himself a fond conjecture on how far Cloud had gone to save his friend from a small ordeal… But surely Tifa would have been capable of getting herself at least some way out of the situation on her own? She was not a woman to be underestimated; he knew that, having fought alongside her upon many an occasion.

"So… How long are you staying for?" Cloud asked as he led them to the opposite end of the market.

Vincent realised this was one thing that he had, in fact, not yet stopped to consider – and by the looks of it, neither had Tifa. He paused a while before replying, "In truth, I'm not certain. As long as Tifa is charitable enough to house me, I assume."

Cloud resumed his slightly tense expression, and failed to make eye contact with him. "And after that?"

Vincent hadn't considered that either. "I… Don't know. Perhaps I shall travel a while or find a place to stay elsewhere."

While Cloud gave that slow, uncertain nod, Vincent reflected that – in all honesty – he hadn't put a great deal of thought into this whole situation. Cloud fell silent once again, and Vincent allowed himself another lapse in time to think.

He had left Nibelheim not too long ago, in his usual state of mental weariness, and set off with some minor goal that even he – unusually – hadn't a clue about. His venture had soon taken him through Corel, over the ocean and towards Midgar's remains, ending in the centre of Edge. Vincent thought that maybe subconsciously he had arrived there because he thought he'd probably find people he knew (which seemed like the most rational of explanations, at any rate).

However he had walked solemnly towards that monument last night, not even certain why he was there or where he would stay. But something in his head, for some bizarre reason, had told him he would probably find Tifa first – even before she had inexplicably arrived there in her white pyjamas and oversized sweatshirt to greet him. Strangely, Vincent had found some kind of comfort in the familiar sight of her round, dark eyes – bloodshot and glistening though they were, as if she'd just been crying. And stranger still, it had seemed as though she too had been following some small, unknown purpose; just as he was.

Had it been presumptuous of him to think it was somehow Tifa he was waiting to meet beneath the meteor monument and the cold moon last night?

"Guess if I asked you how you've been, I'd get a similarly vague answer."

Vincent switched his mind into focus once more and looked at Cloud, who – seemingly having put any of his previous doubt out of his mind – was smirking. It was slightly wry, but not at all cold. Vincent understood him immediately.

"Yes, you would."

Considering both of them were less known for smiling, it was inevitable that Vincent felt vaguely surprised after seeing Cloud's face light up with this beaming one. He looked so carefree all of a sudden as he shoved his hands in his pockets, directing his smile away from Vincent and up at the sky. Vincent, however, looked on – taking notice of things he'd never seen in Cloud up till now. For one, his walking gait was now far from that awkward, tense-shouldered stride he always used to take. Now, he was _strolling_. For a brief and strange moment Vincent half expected the guy to start whistling.

"Would I get anything different if I asked you where you've been all this time?" Cloud said, coolly.

Vincent paused. "Not likely."

"I'll try my luck. Where've you been all this time?"

"Travelling." Vincent replied, as steadily as he could.

Cloud raised a brow, peering at him for a few moments as if trying to study his answer. "You went back to Nibelheim, didn't you?"

Vincent wasn't quite prepared for that. Their eyes met, and he decided it would be stupid to attempt to hide anything like that from this man. They were, after all, similar in many ways.

"I did." He replied. "But I had less of an inclination to stay there for long."

Cloud nodded. "Suppose that's a good thing. Where'd you go after that?"

"I worked my way through to the east."

"Did you come by Midgar through-"

"The Forgotten Capital, yes."

There was a quiet pause. Sometimes Vincent had to stop and think about how the two seemed to comprehend each other so much, as well as remain so oddly distant.

Cloud had a wistful look on his face. "I haven't been there since... Well, since I met you there that time."

"You'd like it better there now." Vincent admitted.

"Why d'you say that?"

Vincent would have smiled. "It's different only in its air. The first thing I noticed the moment I arrived there was… peace, to put it frankly."

Cloud's face showed as much satisfaction as could be seen in him. Vincent knew at once the young man had not gone back to that place because of fear; of distrust that it would do him any good. But Aerith was at peace now too, and it had reflected in the Forgotten Capital's atmosphere; even in the water.

"Well, how's about we start on this chore?" Cloud said after a while, gesturing at a row of small shops ahead of them.

"Do we have a choice?"

Cloud smirked. "No."

"Alright. You lead the way."


	7. Simple Little Things

_**Chapter Seven – Simple Little Things**_

"_White shirt, I guess. This better fit me, 'cause I'm not trying it on. Shop owner gets all antsy if you put the folded ones back wrong."_

"_I see," _Vincent had replied, picking up one in red for himself._ "Jackets?"_

"_Just avoid half the fruity brocaded crap in the store and you'll be fine."_

Vincent had pointed out a few._ "These are plain."_

"_Good enough for me. What size are you?"_

"…_Tall?"_

"_Not quite what I meant…"_

Vincent didn't care to admit it, but it had become quite clear that this arduous shopping assignment would have been fairly complicated, had it not been for Cloud's presence. After years of being clad in clothing that was really less like _clothing_ and more like a protective shell of a uniform, Vincent had felt extremely exposed when he observed one of his new outfits in the mirror of a changing cubicle. He really had not let this clothing issue cross his mind before.

And to add to that, he also felt – very briefly but for the first time - his technical but otherwise redundant age of nearly 60 years. Why? Because Cloud Strife, with his comparably practical sense of style, made Vincent feel like an exasperated war veteran overlooking a generation of youngsters.

And yet, as well as finding other such garments (most of which he had crept off to get when Cloud had been trying things on) – Vincent had ended up with _jeans_. The lack of well-worn leather, buckles and gun holster was going to take some getting used to (for that matter, so was the idea of having gone shopping, of all things, with Cloud, of all people, as an accomplice).

Oh, but the shoes. The _damned,_ _blasted shoes_. Not only did he receive some odd looks upon his entry to the shop, but he also had to be measured – all because he had forgotten his foot size and his own boots displayed no indication of it either. This was a very humiliating procedure, as his feet were apparently about three sizes greater than Cloud's and they had to get the poor sales assistant to go tracking down said size from her store-room. When it was over, Vincent had departed with due haste.

"I'm waiting for you to tell me we've finished now." he muttered as they crossed the marketplace square.

Cloud nodded. "We've finished now."

"Thank you."

They began making their way back towards the area in which they had all met up. The place had grown far busier than it was when they had left it, and no matter how hard Vincent looked, he could not see Tifa and Yuffie anywhere.

"Give up the search while you're ahead." Cloud sighed.

"Hm?"

"That thing says we've only been forty-five minutes into this hour."

Vincent followed Cloud's gaze towards the enormous clock grafted to a building at the opposite end of the marketplace. He was right – they had got everything done rather quickly. But the prospect of waiting another fifteen minutes armed with these bags wasn't a particularly thrilling one.

"Wouldn't they be finished soon, if not by now?" asked Vincent. "They only had dresses to find."

Cloud suddenly snorted with laughter. "Vincent, these are women. Confronted with a task like shopping, they could take all day to-"

"Finish that sentence and you fry, Strife!"

The two men whipped around, caught in surprise by the chirping voice that had interrupted Cloud's. Sure enough, Yuffie had bounced out from behind them, carrying two bags. She was closely followed by Tifa, who had at least four.

"Jeeze!" Cloud exclaimed. "Don't _do_ that!"

Yuffie stuck her tongue out at him.

"We girls are not to be underestimated." Tifa said cheerfully, joining them.

Vincent could do nothing except remain quiet.

"So," said Cloud, gathering his composure, "Why the spare bags? Do your dresses come in parts?"

"Ha, ha." Tifa scoffed. "No, Cloud. We, the elite speed-shoppers, managed to get multiple items."

The young man shot Vincent a very incredulous look, and smiled wryly. "Yeah, like what?"

"Our dresses, a necklace and earrings each…" Tifa began –

"Smart shoes, miscellaneous clothing…" Yuffie said –

"Hair ties, outfits for Marlene and Denzel – oh, and socks for you two, because we knew you'd forget." Tifa finished with a beaming smile.

…Swift defeat.

"It all came cheap, too." Added Yuffie in triumph. "Tif knew where to look."

Cloud sighed. "You win."

Vincent couldn't help but meet Tifa's eyes at that point. She returned a charming smile.

"How'd you guys do?" she asked.

"Fine." They answered simultaneously.

Yuffie put on a look of mock-wariness. "Y'know Cloud, I hope you didn't drag Vince round the lingerie section with you."

She was rapidly lunged at and chased after.

For a moment Vincent simply observed Tifa as she watched, laughing as Yuffie and Cloud scrambled through the crowd and around the marketplace centre - still holding their bags. Vincent, however, was distracted.

Her round eyes were alight with her smile, and such a smile it was… To see her this happy after last night's misery gave Vincent some kind of reassurance. But the real wonder was in the sound of her laughter – like a melody, and as genuine as it came. Strangely, it intrigued and captivated him.

:

* * *

Cloud and Yuffie darted around in circles (quite oblivious to the staring bystanders), shouting mock threats at each other. Tifa giggled fondly at the scene, and looked up at Vincent, who was… staring inquisitively at _her_.

Tifa, a trace of a smile still on her face, peered at him. It was a strange sight to regard; this man lacking so much of that vigilant concentration that was so typical of him… In fact, he looked almost lost. Just as if he hadn't even noticed her looking back at him, Vincent continued to stare. Tifa waved her hand lightly in front of her face.

The man was snapped out of his little trance as quick as lightning, and promptly withdrew his gaze.

Tifa smirked in a puzzled manner. "You okay?"

Yet to take his eyes off the ground, Vincent nodded. She could have sworn the tiniest trace of colour had crept into his half-hidden cheeks.

"You looked so far away." she continued.

He seemed to have mustered up the courage to look at her. "It is… good to see you seem to have overcome how you evidently felt last night. I suppose I found myself observing the change. I apologize if I alarmed you."

…Usually, Tifa would have brushed that last sentence off; giggled at it and told him not to be silly. But now, she hadn't the heart to do so. She wasn't sure why, but she knew it had something to do with the honesty in his voice; the way he spoke to her as if she were as fragile as glass. She couldn't bring herself even to _dare_ to belittle such sincerity.

She smiled at him. "You didn't alarm me."

He blinked. Suddenly the noise of the crowd seemed to have been drowned out, and Tifa could only concentrate on Vincent's expression: dazed and unassuming. Oh, she felt so juvenile for thinking so, but… it really was quite cute.

"Tifa, help me out here." Cloud returned breathlessly to where she was standing.

Snapping back into reality, Tifa smiled. "Oh, you're beyond help now that Yuffie's in on all this."

The young girl nudged him on the arm. "Don't worry Cloud, society is very accepting of deviant lifestyles these days. Be a tranny with pride!"

Inevitably, the chase resumed.

:

Tifa had been exhilarated by the fact so much had gone on that day. And thinking about how the past months had been so quiet and mundane – at least for her – she couldn't help but feel grateful for it all.

Yuffie, clearly revelling in the company, had decided she would stay with Cloud for a few days since the party was imminent. Cloud had no choice in the matter really, but Tifa thought someone else's company might be good for him too.

Vincent had set up his temporary room as soon as they returned. Bed sheets and new possessions had been assembled neatly; everything in its place. Tifa couldn't help but take a look in while he was elsewhere, only to see he had folded all his new clothes and placed them tidily in the dresser; his towels folded alike at the end of the bed (which was made to perfection, she might have added). It was just as she'd imagined: he was like Cloud – one of those men who reserved their tidiness and simplicity only for the places in which they dwelt, presumably so as not to create any more disorder than was needed. And he had made an effort not to make himself too much at home.

Tifa pitied him somewhat for this. But men - though rather perplexing creatures – also told many tales without speaking, and she found that the simplest little things often provided the most insight.

That evening, when Cloud and Yuffie had departed after a meal cooked for them all by Tifa, there was an instantaneous quiet within the house. It was just her and brooding, enigmatic Vincent again. Yet through the stillness, the notion that she was no longer alone here was of some comfort to Tifa.

Nevertheless, it was… _very_ quiet.

"D'you mind if I play the stereo?"

Vincent looked up at her from his seat on the sofa. "This is your home; I shouldn't expect my presence to interrupt your activities."

"You didn't answer my question." Tifa smirked.

He peered at her for a moment.

"I'll play it quietly." she added.

Vincent gave a semi-audible grunt. "You do as you like, Tifa."

She raised her brow, smiling before she turned to put a CD into the player. It was one of her favourites; a collection of tranquil piano songs. As the first track progressed, she saw Vincent's expression change yet again. He looked calmer himself now, even slightly wistful.

"It's been a while since I have had the opportunity to listen to music – properly, that is." He seemed to ponder aloud.

Tifa sat down next to him. "It's something you need to do once in a while, just to let you escape the real world for a bit. I used to play the piano actually, when I was younger… Cheered me up sometimes."

"That's a commendable thing, you know." Vincent replied, gazing ahead. "To play a musical instrument. I would like to have heard it."

Tifa smiled softly at him, inwardly feeling warmed at the thought that Vincent seemed to appreciate this as much as she did. She'd always known there was far more to this man than met the eye, but now she came to think of it – there was clearly an entire world of stories behind those deep red eyes.

…All of a sudden, she noticed something that she never really thought about all afternoon. Vincent – though he had removed his cape and boots – was still wearing his usual gear. She eyed him in puzzlement.

He seemed to have noticed this. "Is anything the matter?"

"You haven't changed into your other clothes. You _did_ buy them today, right?"

He looked down. "I did. But for what reason would I change this late in the day?"

Tifa smiled in amusement. "Nothing in particular; it doesn't have to be. I'll be truthful though - I wanted to see what you'd look like in ordinary clothes. Plus maybe I could wash and patch up your old stuff."

That vaguely bewildered look seemed to be a regular one for him today. He was doing it again, but this time he seemed almost embarrassed. What for, though?

"Vincent, your suit is ripped at the ankles." she added.

He looked down and pulled at leather. "So it is."

Tifa sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Go change. I'll patch that up along with your cape."

He was probably going to tell her it wasn't necessary or to save herself the trouble, but he didn't. "Thank you. That's very thoughtful."

She couldn't help but grin. "That's what I like to hear!"

:

Nightfall brought a starless sky and a street disturbed by noise. Alone, Tifa had spent the last hour or so working on the restoration of her companion's battered garments; including the infamous crimson cloak.

Contrary to what she had suggested (and hoped), she had not seen Vincent wearing anything different that evening. After they had parted at around 11pm, she had gone to collect his things only to find they had been left – neatly folded – outside his bedroom door for her. Obviously Tifa allowed him his privacy and took the clothing without question, but inwardly she felt the tiniest hint of disappointment… or rather perplexity, to put it more accurately. However, she simply stood by her notion that men were like a different species altogether and told herself to think nothing more of it.

The sounds coming from outside were not overall typical for a Thursday night – especially not around here – and Tifa wondered about this as she climbed into her bed. She heard the distant whirr of cars and the echoes of peoples' voices through the previously silent streets, and frowned to herself. She always found it exceedingly difficult to get to sleep if there was noise about.

She tried. Settling her head into the soft pillow beneath, she closed her eyes and tried to welcome the dark – but it took effort to drown out the noise, even if it was only faint and distant. But she had no sooner escaped this than a different noise came to her semi-attentive mind. This one was coming from inside the house.

She opened her eyes and listened hard; it was the unmistakable drone of someone mumbling, and it had Vincent's low, growling tone. She listened for a few moments, perplexed as to why he could possibly be talking to himself – but it was after the sound of his sharp exclamation and the resulting jump in her heartbeat that alerted Tifa to something that had to have been amiss. Cautiously she sat up in her bed, straining her ears to hear more. First there was silence, then suddenly –

"_Go away_!"

Tifa's brow knitted as she listened to his sparse, near-unidentifiable words – and she could rest no longer. More out of curiosity than anything else, she left her bed and made her way towards the door of Vincent's room, pressing her ear to the varnished wood and trying her hardest not to make a sound.

He was murmuring inaudibly, but something in the sound of his voice and the harsh movement of sheets wasn't right. Quietly, carefully – and with the inescapable fear of intrusion – Tifa pushed open the door and peered around the frame into the darkness.

He was sprawled out on the seemingly freshly-made bed, clearly as though he had fallen asleep there without bothering to tuck himself in. For a second Tifa couldn't help but notice how different he looked, owing to the absence of his headband – which was set neatly on the bedside table – or the way his jersey and pants hung loosely from his sleeping form, making his body seem thinner even than usual. And his face…

Tifa's spirits immediately fell. Dim light from outside highlighted his death-pale countenance; the frown in his brow and the pain in his closed eyes. His head occasionally turned this way and that; his mouth opening to mimic words she could never have read.

He was dreaming, no doubt. Tifa could, therefore, do nothing except watch in bewilderment has his fists clenched and his eyes darted about beneath their lids as though he was searching frantically for something. It must have been a vivid dream…

But Tifa's intrigue rapidly turned to unease as Vincent's expression changed to inexplicable fury. His eyes were still shut as his chest heaved and his right hand grasped at nothing, with the seeming intent to harm. Then he spoke –

"I'll kill you…I…swear to Gaia, I'll…For what you…"

Tifa had moved to reach out at him; to comfort or at least calm the man… No, what would happen if he awoke and saw her spying on him while he was asleep? She thought of the consequences – the possible awkward silences that would ensue the following morning. It wasn't worth the risk.

But he was in pain, and she could see it. She could stand it no longer, and – almost to herself and out of pity - meekly whispered his name.

The effect was instantaneous, and it startled her: All movement ceased within him and his face alleviated; fell into an uncertain, timid frown. And then he whispered hazily back, "…Lucrecia?"

She could do nothing except gaze blankly back at him as he calmed to a deep slumber, her thoughts a mixture of many sentiments – the foremost being pity. All of a sudden she felt a profound need to care for him, reassure him - if only to hold him close to her again…

_Wait, what?_

She lowered her gaze. He had probably been having these nightmares for as long as he could remember, so what good would it do to try and reassure him of anything now?

_But maybe that's what he needs…_

What did _she_ know? Tifa shook her head as if doing so would shake such thoughts out of her mind and away. Vincent lay still, his dreams visible now only in the slightest twitch of his fingers. Tifa – despite her odd desire to stay and watch him – knew this was her cue to leave. She turned slowly and once she reached the door, she took a short backwards glance. Still he slept, and still something was not right.

But what could she do?

She shut the door behind her, leaving him to dream.


	8. Ingenuously

**_A/N: Well holy crap, it's been a while. Just so you know, this story is very much alive - I'm extremely attached to it :) I know exactly where it's going and what's going to happen - it's just a case of getting time to write it out. So I hope you enjoy the return after the horrendously long hiatus. (Again, divides in the page mark a change of character narrative_.)**

* * *

_**Chapter Eight – Ingenuously**_

Vincent couldn't remember the last time he had awoken like this; all five of his senses were stirred at once. He felt the unfamiliar softness of fabric beneath him, heard what he thought was the muffled sound of voices from below; he smelt the foreign yet somehow comforting scent of Tifa's home and opened his eyes to nothing except the dazzling light filtering through the small window… And lingering on his tongue was the metallic taste of blood.

Vincent sat up abruptly, raising a hand to his mouth and expecting to find it covered scarlet – but there was nothing except the whiteness of his flesh, and the gruesome flavour had disappeared as quickly as it came.

The only tangible thing remaining was the dizziness that resulted from his sitting up too quickly.

The room soon came hazily into focus. It was lighter and far airier than he remembered, and it seemed that his somewhat disturbed sleep had taken him temporarily from reality – he was still having a difficult time adjusting to the domesticity of his surroundings.

For a moment Vincent let his stinging eyes adapt to the light. He moved to sit slouched on the edge of the bed, and ran a hand over his face. The dreams were certainly not uncommon, but they were vivid lately, and he didn't enjoy it. He tried very hard to avoid thinking about dreams beyond sleep, but like most things it was easier said than done. A dull twinge returned to his head.

Vincent stayed there, his eyes closed, until that muffled sound of chattering voices came to his ears again. Unmistakably Tifa was not the only person downstairs, and Vincent sat up straight, wondering if he had overslept. But it wasn't like him at all…

A low, gruff male voice joined Tifa's downstairs, the words not quite distinguishable. And following his was laughter; far too high-pitched to be Tifa's - or even an adult's, for that matter. Vincent felt something weigh on his stomach – he was not overly keen on a lot of company, and he had only just woken up. He was not nearly presentable enough to go downstairs and be seen by guests, so he set about getting dressed.

Vincent was rarely bothered by his own appearance, but today his hair was a mess, and his eyes were incredibly bloodshot. He slipped on a set of new clothes (after searching instinctively for his leather garb and realising it was not there), while trying to locate something with which to tame his mane of black hair. He found a very small brush in one of the drawers and was eventually successful – after managing to put himself through a considerable amount of pain in the process.

Clad so meagrely in only two garments he felt rather exposed, and unpleasantly vulnerable. It had been a very long time since he'd worn anything different to his own uniform of black and red.

He had nearly left the room without his headband. That was promptly re-tied – more out of habit than anything else - and he reached for one of his gloves to wear on his scarred left hand; the gauntlet usually adorned it, but there would be no need for that today.

Vincent descended the stairs slowly and uncertainly, and was met by four bewildered presences: Tifa, two familiar children and the hulking form of their returned comrade, Barret.

Vincent froze on the bottom step and stared back at them, not entirely sure what to do.

It was clearly still early, as Tifa was wrapped in a bathrobe and did not seem long awake. But seeing as Barret and the children were fully dressed, he could only assume they had only just made a journey here.

The youngest seemed to recognise him immediately. Eyes alight, Marlene smiled glowingly and waved at him.

"Vince!" Barret said, the surprise apparent in both his voice and his expression. He lowered his brow and pointed a finger in the gunman's direction, opening his mouth to speak but instead looking between Vincent and Tifa in confusion. "You're back! Where the hell you been?"

Vincent, not exactly armed with appropriate responses for such a sudden confrontation, simply said "Away."

The man folded his arms and smirked. "Figured. So what're you doin' here? Tif let you stay?"

The woman herself smiled and rolled her eyes, looking back at her lodger apologetically. "Good morning, Vincent. These guys dropped by earlier than I expected, so I didn't have time to tell you. Hope you don't mind…"

Before Vincent could reply, a small figure had bounded up to him and was gazing up at him through round brown eyes. Marlene, visibly changed even after seven short months, held out a tiny hand for him to shake.

"It's nice to see you again, Vincent."

He took the child's hand and shook it compliantly, giving her a nod of his head. There was no denying anything to a child this courteous.

Barret was looking down at the eldest child - one Vincent knew by name and appearance but had never really spoken to. The boy peered at him shyly; more out of what seemed like fascination than fear.

"C'mon Denzel." Barret said out the side of his mouth, nudging him gently on the shoulder. The child shuffled over to Vincent.

"Hi, Mr Valentine." He mumbled, shaking his hand. "I remember you from back then, only you looked different. Tifa just said you were our friend."

Vincent glanced at the woman momentarily, who was smiling at the ground. He looked around at them all, until finally he nodded. "That's right."

Pink-flushed cheeks accompanied Tifa's smile. "So… Are you rushing off again, Barret, or will you stay for breakfast?"

The man beamed. "Hell yeah, if you're makin' that egg toast. Can't never get it right at home."

They were brought into the kitchen and told to sit down at the table. With Barret's company it became fairly crowded, but Vincent was in no position to complain. As it was, his own cooking skills left plenty of room for improvement.

"So," Marlene said beamingly whilst shifting in her chair to face him, "Did you get a phone?"

:

* * *

The children always seemed to brighten any atmosphere. Tifa took delight in the fact they were almost perpetually contented these days, and was inwardly thankful that there was still such innocence and simplicity left for her to witness and be a part of. Little hands, high voices and round, glittering eyes greeted her with warmth that morning – and if she could, she would have put the ensuing sense of wellbeing she felt into words.

They had greeted Vincent with the same innocence, the same warmth. Tifa wondered how the man had taken it, for she could only assume he was less than accustomed to dealing with children. But there was a look about him when they addressed him with such welcome, and Tifa thought that it seemed like a serene kind of bewilderment.

To be truthful, that wasn't the only thing about him that seemed unusual today. Tifa had been startled to see him come down the stairs wearing a distinctly un-Vincent-like ensemble of that smart navy blue shirt and black jeans. He seemed to have systematically buttoned his shirt right to the top; it seemed he was having a harder time adjusting to this 'new look' than she was.

With Barret's departure before noon came Cloud's arrival. When the children flung themselves into the young man's welcoming arms, Tifa smiled, and forgot that Vincent had disappeared. It was only until Cloud remarked on this that she realized the gunman was no longer in the room with them.

Vincent was so quiet and unobtrusive that his presence could have been there or elsewhere without anyone's knowledge. Tifa knew that was simply a trait of stealth that naturally followed his former job as a Turk, but she did feel slightly guilty nonetheless for not noticing him.

"I'll go and find him." Cloud muttered eventually, smirking and making his way towards the stairs. "He's coming with us all to the old church, whether he likes it or not… He has plenty of time to sit by himself and brood, so I'm guessing he could spare a little, even if it's just while the kids are here."

Tifa could do no more except smile and nod. Usually such remarks were commonplace among their circle of friends, but this time she wasn't amused. It was different for Cid of course; poking fun at his friends was just his way of bonding, but when Cloud did the same thing… Why did she think of it so disapprovingly, if only when it was aimed at Vincent?

Cloud returned from upstairs with his mobile phone in hand.

"Where is he?" she inquired, slipping on her shoes.

"Already there." Cloud replied.

Tifa frowned. _When and why did he sneak off? _"Oh. How'd you know that?"

Cloud raised a brow and pocketed his phone. "I sent him a text message asking where he was. He's not very good at texting, but I kinda worked out what he tried to key in."

"…Wait," said Tifa, "I thought you said you didn't have his number?"

Cloud walked towards the door. "Yesterday I asked to see his phone - I used it to contact my own and saved the number."

She stared at him. "Well… Sensible thinking, huh?"

"Just seizing an opportunity." He finished with a smile.

They made their usual journey on foot to the ruined chapel, savouring the warmth and light of the sun in the cloudless sky. The children had resumed a debate they had started earlier (concerning music, as far as Tifa could make out) but apart from that, there was no conversation. Cloud had taken to gazing at things in the distance again, and Tifa thought about Vincent. Almost subconsciously. He was simply there, in the back of her mind. There was a lapse in her own little frame of time, to be ceased only by the sound of Marlene's voice repeating her name.

"Tifa?"

She looked down at the child, who seemed utterly nonplussed as to why Tifa could possibly be ignoring her.

The woman shook her head. "Sorry, honey. Just a little daydream. What were you saying to me?"

Marlene smiled, but soon resumed her look of perplexity. "Why didn't Vincent go with us to the church?"

"Yeah, is he pissed off with us or something?" Denzel chimed in.

Cloud nudged him on the shoulder. "Hey - language, buddy."

Tifa, ready to ask herself the same sort of questions the children had presented, raised her brow. "No, he isn't cross with us. I think he just likes to be on his own sometimes." _…A lot of the time._

The young boy kicked the ground in front of him as he walked. "Hmm. Mr Valentine's cool and everything, but… he's kinda weird."

Tifa sighed faintly, but followed it with a smile. "Denzel… You shouldn't say things like that about people you're just getting to know."

"I only meant he seems, like, constantly shy." Denzel added.

"That's how you'd put it, huh?" Cloud seemed to be pondering this aloud. "Interesting."

"No," Marlene said, "I think he's just… in his own little world. Like Tifa was, just now!"

There had been something about Marlene, right from the day they met her. There was, if not yet great wisdom, pure reason in her innocent words.

Tifa, seeing the church draw ever closer, looked wistfully beyond its walls. "You know, I think he is too."

"I like to daydream," said Marlene, "but you have to talk as well. Otherwise people think you have something against them. Maybe that's why Denzel thought Vincent was angry with us."

Looking down at the girl, Tifa smiled faintly and placed a hand on her slight shoulder. "He'll talk to us, sweetie. It just takes someone to encourage him."

Marlene's plaited hair bounced behind her head as she nodded with the usual vigour her age. She began to skip next to Tifa as they continued their short journey, the soles of her little white mary-janes clacking on the concrete. That was until Cloud offered her a piggy-back she could not refuse. As her little arms clasped around the man's shoulders, she seemed delighted to be carried the remainder of the way to the church - and Tifa watched the two with fondness.

The sun shone for all of them today, it seemed.

:

* * *

Vincent had never really taken it into consideration before, but it always seemed drastically quieter in this place than anywhere else in the area. Even stepping outside the chapel brought about an immediate change, as if the walls kept a sacred peace isolated within them. He knew now why Cloud had taken to staying here in times of desolation.

Said quiet, however, did not last for long – the gigantic doors opened to let in a group of four people; two of which were chatting and bounding up the aisle to where he was sitting on one of the pews.

"There he is!"

Vincent turned around, if slightly jadedly. He had come here because he had not known what kind of action to take around the new arrivals, and had deemed it best to depart for a while. He had felt there was a slight intrusion in his presence there, around Tifa's family-like unit. So now that they had come _here_, he was even less sure of what to do than before.

Marlene slowed her cheerful skip to a walk as she neared the pew, and smiled at him. "Were you waiting for us?"

Vincent's expression remained blank. In truth, he hadn't expected them until Cloud had sent him that message.

"I was. I decided to give you all some time to spend together while I walked on ahead." _It was half true_.

Marlene cocked her head to one side in puzzlement, and for a moment she reminded him very much of Tifa. "You would've been welcome to join us, I'm sure! Right, Cloud?"

"Don't see why not." The young man came to stand by them, and looked for a moment at Vincent – who immediately detected the purpose and question in Cloud's reply.

"Then I suppose I should next time," Vincent told the child.

She smiled beamingly before scampering away with Denzel towards the flowers. Cloud followed, offering them a game of hide and seek, which Marlene accepted only on the condition that she could seek. This would be over quickly, since it became apparent that Cloud was a terrible hider.

Tifa joined Vincent on the pew. He watched the three scatter about the place before her voice broke the quiet.

"I didn't notice you leave, y'know." She was meek sounding, as if she had something to be sorry for.

Vincent glanced at her. "You all seemed immersed, I felt it better that I-"

"Would it be rude of me to tell you I think you assume too much?"

Taken aback mildly by her interjection, Vincent turned to look at her. A concerned sort of smile lingered on her face.

He looked back at his feet. "Not at all. It is your view to express as you please."

Tifa sighed. "You didn't hear it directly from me, I know, but don't you remember how I said you were our friend? We have Yuffie, Cid, Red... D'you think we'd up and tell them to give us some space because we're busy being an exclusive little team?"

Vincent fell silent, not entirely sure if anything he could say would prove a valid rebuttal. He twitched instinctively as her hand fell upon his shoulder.

"You're as much a part of our group as we are." Her eyes locked into his again. "Now enjoy today with us. And try, just _try_, to reattach yourself. You're more welcome than you think you are, Vincent."

She got up with a smile and gestured for him to join her. In his mild bemusement and, thinking he should probably comply, he left his seat and made his way slowly to where she now sat near the flowers. He joined her, but caught a dazzling blast of sunlight in his eyes as he sat; it stung, and a sharp pain pulsed through his head for a second. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes instinctively, which he hoped hadn't alerted Tifa – with the way the sun affected him he might as well have been a vampire.

Thankfully, she seemed preoccupied with the sight to her left; presumably the lack of stealth Cloud had displayed in his hiding place (his hair was sticking out quite conspicuously from behind a fallen beam next to a wall).

"Ever seen these, Vincent?"

He looked up, squinting slightly against the brightness until his eyes adjusted. "Seen what?"

"Moonflowers." Tifa pointed at one in front of her. "They're beautiful."

Vincent peered down at the plant, inwardly pondering upon why she may have found them so fascinating. It was nothing more than a bud, twisted at the top with a flash of white. "…Not the right time of the year for them?"

She looked at him, and laughed softly. "It's the perfect time of year. Just not the right time of day."

He puzzled over this. Tifa shifted in her seated position, pointing again to more of the buds. "Doesn't look like there's many of them right now, they're all hidden among the other flowers. But if you come back on a clear night… They bloom. And their petals seem to glow."

It made sense. _Moon_ flowers. She parted two yellow blossoms that covered another hiding sprout. Vincent would have deemed this a trivial subject, but she was fascinated... Fascinated by such simple things; by the beauty in nature, and something within this sentiment seemed to fill Vincent with a sound respect for her.

"I know," she continued, "seems strange that out of all these lovely flowers, these should be my favourite. But then, I always did think the odd ones out are often the most interesting."

Vincent diverted his gaze down at the sleeping buds. "Such a sentiment is hardly strange. There was a time when I sought peace through appreciating the beauty in things we'd otherwise overlook."

The young woman gave him a curious look. "Why d'you say that as if it's in the past? Don't you think like that about things any more?"

He stopped to consider this for a second, and felt strangely baffled. He hadn't pondered it until now; such thoughts had been almost a luxury. And, Vincent being Vincent, he hadn't exactly allowed himself anything of the sort in the recent past.

His brow knitted for a second, and he leaned his head to the side. "Maybe it's something I should work on."

There was a glint in her dark eyes as her smile gradually brightened.

:

He had stuck with them for the entire day, and the realization of this only hit him when he had helped clear the kitchen after dinner. Today had been a decidedly family-like affair, owing to the presence of the children – and Vincent wasn't sure how he felt about it. No matter what Tifa had said, he still had reservations about including himself too much; she and Cloud exhibited parent-like qualities around the young ones, and it made Vincent slightly uneasy. It had been more like watching a busy mother and father tending to their children than simply two of his friends going about their day.

However, when games and chat had been exhausted and it was time for the children to get ready for bed, Vincent could at last breathe a sigh of relief. Almost as if he had been unwittingly tense all day, his muscles relaxed. Putting the last of their mugs in the washer, he leant on the counter and watched Cloud take the youngsters out of the room and up the stairs. Tifa, who had been cleaning tea stains off the table, peered up at Vincent.

"Thank you for helping out." She smiled, dropping her cloth in the sink beside him. "I realize being with us all today might not have been what you're used to…"

Vincent, arms folded, looked back at her. "Your wish was that I included myself. I noted your advice – I can be overly solitary at times."

"Well I hope there'll be more days like this."

He looked at his feet. "Dinner was very good. You cook well."

Tifa raised her eyebrows and smirked. "Well, that's a relief. With how little you ate, I was beginning to wonder!"

"I didn't mean to give that impression," he promptly reassured her, feeling immediately embarrassed. "I survive on very little these days…"

"I was only kidding, Vincent." She placed a hand on his shoulder, and his muscles tightened. The contact, though intermittent, was always unexpected.

"Do you need help with anything else?" he mumbled.

She folded her arms and sighed, looking around the kitchen. "No, I think that about covers it… You're welcome to put on the television or play the stereo while I check on the troops upstairs."

Not planning on doing either, Vincent nodded anyway. She left the kitchen, and he stood there a while.

Within a few minutes Cloud had returned from upstairs with her, and silently the gunman watched them from the kitchen as they said their goodbyes, embracing each other warmly. He wasn't sure why, but he looked away.

"Was good to have you around, Vincent." Cloud said with a smile, nodding as he left.

It was a strange thing to hear, but he inclined his head in response all the same. The front door shut, and Tifa went to lean on the kitchen wall.

"Listen, I'm going to bed but… Make yourself comfortable. Play some music - I have CDs in the bookshelf, or there's a radio setting on that thing if you prefer."

"Thank you." Vincent did not move from his place at the counter. "Sleep well."

If he wasn't mistaken, he could see her faint smile falter as she left.

:

He hadn't left the kitchen. The most he had done was move to sit in one of the chairs and stare out of the window. An old analogue clock ticked softly away on the wall in front of him, showing 2:30 in the morning; it had been hours, but as usual they had fluttered past as if they hadn't happened. He was alone down here with his thoughts once more, watching haze float about the moon in the distance.

But it wasn't long before a faint sound alerted him. Someone was coming down the stairs, their footsteps tentative and light. Vincent kept an eye on the lounge, expecting Tifa to have returned. But a much smaller figure crossed the room, and came to peer into where the gunman sat.

Marlene was wide awake, eyes shining, clutching at her little violet nightgown. "Vincent? Am I intruding?"

"Not at all." Vincent muttered softly, looking back at her. "Is everything alright?"

"I guess…" her reply was meek. "But I can't sleep. I didn't hear you go upstairs, so… Would you mind if I talked to you?"

For a moment, Vincent was a little taken-aback. It wasn't often that people confided in him, much less a _child_, and because of this he wasn't quite certain about how good a job he would do. But the girl was mature and mild-mannered, and her courtesy was not to be unappreciated. He would have to try his best. He sighed, and nodded.

Marlene pattered over to the table in her bare feet, hoisting herself onto a chair. She clasped her small hands in front of her. "Denzel and Tifa are asleep, but I could hear Tifa – she wasn't peaceful at all. She was tossing and turning."

Vincent furrowed his brow. "Did it keep you up?"

"Maybe," she mumbled, "I hope she's okay."

"I hope so too." He replied, without thinking.

The child peered up at him. "In the past I've heard Tifa and Cloud talk about our friends. I know quite a lot about you all now. Sometimes she tells us stories; things that happened back then, when you were all fighting. She cares a lot about all of us."

Vincent nodded lightly. "She always has."

A smile flickered across Marlene's face, and disappeared. She looked at her hands. "She makes a lot of effort for us. She even kept smiling when Cloud went away. But I knew she was sad. I could hear her crying sometimes… but don't tell her I said that… she'll get worried."

Suddenly, he felt a very negative feeling loom over him, tainting the image of Cloud he had been holding in his mind since she mentioned his name. Being as observant as he was, the gunman knew Cloud had been the cause of worry and despair to Tifa many a time - but Vincent felt confused and even irritated to think the young man had continued to do it. She had been nothing but good to them all. Had Cloud really gone as far as abandoning her, even when she may have needed him there?

"I won't mention it." He answered compliantly.

Marlene nodded, and paused. "Vincent?"

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

She looked at him inquisitively. "Tifa said you were a lot older than you seemed. I never knew quite what she meant. Is it bad of me to ask?"

He blinked. It wasn't audacious in the slightest, only surprising. Vincent had reservations about the sort of things he enlightened such a young child with, and didn't want Barret to think she'd been affected by any of it – but Marlene was a little different than the average child. And she was simply curious.

"No, it isn't bad." Vincent clasped his hands on the table in front of him. "…Think of a life as a clock. The days, months and years tick by like the minutes do on that clock. I don't want to tell you any grizzly tales, Marlene… there are some things I think you don't deserve to have on your mind while you're so young. But I'll say for now that someone did something to me; something that meant my clock stopped. I was twenty-seven when it happened."

The girl raised her brows. "Did it happen long ago?"

"Just over thirty years."

She stared, awestruck. Gradually her head tilted to the side, and she seemed to be studying him. "But you look young, like Cloud. I guess then that you mean… you stopped growing old. Vincent… will your clock ever start ticking again?"

He looked down. "It's hard to say. If you're asking me, then… No, I am doubtful that it will."

"You'll live forever?"

"…Forever is a very long time. Again… It's difficult to say."

Her glinting eyes suddenly became full of concern. She asked him another question.

"Are you sad, that this happened?"

He felt something tug at his chest, deep inside. There weren't words he could ever put to the truth behind how his ordeal had struck him, and he wasn't about to try and piece it together for this innocent young girl. She didn't need to hear it.

"…You learn to live with these things after a while."

Marlene nodded, and looked down.

"Listen, Marlene - " he continued, "You mustn't feel bad for me. It happened a very long time ago."

"I understand." She smiled faintly. "…So, how long will you stay with us?"

Vincent paused. "I'm not sure exactly. This is Tifa's home, so how long I stay will be up to her. I don't want to be any trouble."

Oddly, the girl giggled. "Then I think you'll be here quite a while! Tifa's so kind, she doesn't just kick people out. I think she likes the company."

The way she talked about Tifa took Vincent by surprise. Little Marlene was not a simple child; she was growing up fast, and he could see it in her insightfulness. He wondered if, in her earliest years, she was like his father always told him _he'd_ been; a quiet, wide-eyed little child who would sooner observe than talk. But he also saw a trace of Tifa in the girl – her matter-of-fact conversation and outward compassion. It was clear there was more to Marlene than he could deduce at their first meeting.

"I'm tired," the child mumbled, "but I don't think I'll be able to sleep."

Vincent thought. "Perhaps you're thinking too deeply about trying to sleep. I find reading helps divert your mind."

Marlene raised her eyebrows, mulling this over. "Good idea. But I'm a little tired to concentrate on books. Do you know any stories you could tell me?"

He went quiet for a moment. "…I doubt you'd like any of them."

She wasn't going to let him off the hook; it was clear. She lent forward, her expression questioning. "How about poems? D'you know any of those?"

He'd have to; there was no way around it - and he didn't want to disappoint her. He sighed. "A few. But they're not the most… upbeat of verses."

"That's okay. I don't like nursery rhymes, they repeat too much."

He was becoming fond of her attitude, despite the position he'd been put in. He decided it couldn't do any harm to recite a few verses; it might help her get to sleep, even if it ended up being through sheer boredom.

They went to sit on the sofa in the lounge. Vincent took a seat, but rather than sitting by his side, Marlene clambered up boldly and perched herself across his knee, resting her back on the arm of the sofa. It triggered a memory of her a while ago, in that bleak forest, when she ran tearfully from Cloud to hide behind the gunman. It had surprised him then, but he assumed immediately that she – like any other child – had a primal trust for those who exhibited a protective nature. She'd probably seen him save Cloud from a grim situation just minutes before.

She twiddled her thumbs in her lap, waiting for him as he decided on a poem. He picked one he thought she might have more ease relating to – more so, at least, than the many characteristically dire sonnets of lost love he would repeat in his head on days when there was nothing better to do. He slowed his voice, and thought deep into the words as he recited.

_In surrender of shine and warmth of day_

_Where leaves cling weak on rusting trees_

_A lakeside empties, breathes a summer_

_Bowing low to winter's grey;_

_And ashy white on velvet skies_

_Cover fields, ampler before_

_the rain washed out the scent of grass_

_and gales blew down on orchard's pride;_

_Whereby the sun-room gathers dust,_

_And whirling leaves gather under dusk_

_A gentle chill holds sway, and thus -_

_Glitters white for months to come. _

Marlene smiled. "It made me think of snow. I've only seen pictures, but I think it's beautiful. I've always wanted to go out in it, but it never snows where I've lived."

"Perhaps you should ask your father to take you to the north one day." Vincent replied.

"I will." The child nodded. "…I really liked your poem. Tell me another?"

He spoke the verses to her for a little while longer, until he felt her gradually slump against him and retire any response. The words in their opulence and languidness had sent the little girl to a slumber, and Vincent carefully raised her from his lap, making his way upstairs with her - peaceful and silent in his arms. He hesitated before he opened the door to Tifa's bedroom, suddenly aware he hadn't been in here yet. Inside, two fold-up camp beds were set side by side at the foot of the double that contained Tifa herself. He instinctively averted his gaze from her as he went to place Marlene gently in the empty camp bed, tucking blankets back over her. Denzel, sleeping adjacently, was soundless as she.

But before he left, Vincent could not help but glance back at the woman curled up on one side of her bed, facing the door. Her head was settled not on the pillow but below it, nestled instead in the crook of her arm. The other arm was slumped over the side, her toes peeking out of her blanket. If he had ever seen a troubled sleeper other than himself, she had been very much that person.

He found the need to tuck her limp arm back beneath her and replace the blanket over her feet. She stirred only for a split second, when a cascade of thick, dark hair quickly masked her frown. For whatever reason he wanted to linger there; brush the hair from her face and ensure – by some miracle – that her slumber was peaceful. But he thought better of it, for he'd sooner make himself scarce than have her wake to find him looming over her - and so he left quietly, leaving the door ajar.

:

* * *

_A/N: Hope this was insightful! The poem in italics was actually a little something I wrote myself while contemplating changing seasons. Turned out better than I hoped - I tried to find a poet that fitted the scene well enough but it turned out it was quicker to write it myself than to trawl through books and Google for the write one :P_


	9. Footloose

_A/N: Oh noes, Cairi Jo uses actual song lyrics from an actual song, so Cairi Jo must disclaim them at once! (you'll work out where they are; I'm just making sure they aren't mistaken for mine, since one of my own poems was included in the previous chapter.)_

_And, line divides in page = change of character narrative. BUT YOU KNOW THIS. OHOHO  
_

* * *

_**Chapter 9 – Footloose**_

Tifa sat at her dressing table, in front of her mirror. Wrapped in a bathrobe with damp hair twisted into a towel, she painted deep red onto her neat fingernails. A palette of brown eye powder was opened, and with a finger she brushed a thin dusting of it over her lids - barely enough to notice. So unused was she to simply sitting and primping, Tifa stared at her reflection momentarily, wondering what to do next.

Blush-tinted lip gloss sat in one of the drawers. She applied it sparingly, if only to accompany the eye powder. She wasn't sure if she really liked wearing makeup, but at least it made her look a little less tired.

"Tifaaaaa!"

Denzel stomped into the room, a tie hanging knotted and wonky over his shirt collar. His face was red.

She smiled, shaking her head. "Here, let me get that."

The difficulty came not with re-tying the thing, but untangling it from his impossible knot. Once it was corrected, she patted him on the shoulder.

"Thanks." Denzel looked at his feet as he began to leave the room.

Tifa smirked. "Don't forget your top button, fella."

"Fine…"

She chuckled to herself as the door was shut briskly. This little man was certainly not growing up to bother himself with maintenance, she could tell. Marlene, however, was a different case – she had pleaded Tifa to let her put on her new salmon pink dress hours ago, insisting she would take every precaution not to get it dirty. Tifa, having remembered the desire that lay in every little girl to look like a princess for a day, happily agreed to it.

After blow-drying her hair Tifa bundled it up with ribbons and pins, reaching for her own dress in the wardrobe. She liked it on but wondered, with a rising tinge of red in her cheeks, if it wasn't just a little low-cut and poorly supported (_was strapless really the best of choices?_) - and even more irritatingly, she realized the zip had become stuck halfway up her back.

She bit her lip.

:

* * *

It reminded him of his old Turk uniform.

This shirt was flimsy. These dress pants were slack and sort of pooled round his ankles. Those shoes were shiny, and his ankles felt naked. It felt like he was carrying his own weight in air beneath his clothes and he did not like it.

Vincent flung on the suit jacket. This might have been the only thing he remotely liked, being the only garment with any significant weight in it. He gloved his left hand. Red band still in place around his forehead, his hair still hung spidery and dark around his shoulders (he didn't know what else to do with it).

He could hear the children running around downstairs. They were obviously excited for this occasion. He wondered if Tifa was equally as keen; she had probably been ready an hour ago. It was barely ten minutes before Cloud and Yuffie were meant to arrive and pick them up to head to Kalm for the event, and he was sure he'd have his mind warped by how _dressed up_ his friends would be looking. For a moment he imagined himself within some strange and disturbing kind of fairy tale, where everyone had changed.

All of a sudden, there was a knock on the door.

"Vincent?"

Her voice was timid. He opened the door for her - and couldn't help but stare as Tifa stood tottering outside his room, one hand pulling on a heeled shoe and the other behind her back, clutching desperately at her dress. Her hair had been put up in a bun at the nape of her neck but it seemed in her frustration it had begun to slip loose.

Her newly-shoed foot stomped to the ground and she blew stray hairs from her flushed face, chuckling feverishly. "Vincent, I'm sorry to bother you, but… My zip is stuck tight. Would you..?"

For some reason he felt his pulse in his throat momentarily, before it returned to normal. He faltered for a second, before nodding without a word. She turned around, finger and thumb still pinching the dress together. Almost unwittingly Vincent gently moved a few strands of her hair out of the way, and felt that beat in his throat again as he caught the muscles below her neck quivering, if only briefly, upon his touch. He swallowed.

It was indeed stuck fast, round about the small of her back. Trying hard not to let his fingers brush her skin, Vincent tugged at the zipper a little to free some of the thin organza material that had become trapped in it. The thing was eventually freed, and he carefully drew it back up to the top.

She turned back around, smiling. "Thank you."

He inclined his head vaguely, and stayed silent. She looked very different like this… Upwards his eyes trailed from the way the simple navy gown floated about her knees and hugged her waist, and he knew if his pallid face was capable of showing colour then it would have done so: she'd always been happy to display her taught midriff in what she wore, but never anything that revealed even a glimpse of cleavage - and he could tell immediately that she was more uneasy about this than he… Her shoulders hunched suddenly and she started playing with her hair.

He seemed to have witnessed a rare depletion in her confidence; she was always such a poised woman - and as a result, he felt almost intrusive to be beholding her. He looked down.

"I like it."

"Hm?" he mumbled, peering back up into her eyes.

"It looks good on you," She added with a diffident smile, "that getup. Hey, you want me to do something with that hair?"

He hesitated for a second, mouth opening and closing again. Inside his head, Chaos uttered a mocking snigger.

"Gods, I'm not going to braid it!" she giggled. "Just want to try something. Do you mind..? Only for the party…"

"…If you insist."

She was removing his headband before he could register what was happening. She drew the bulk of his hair gently behind his shoulders, and he watched her in the mirror as she took something out of her own hair – a red ribbon – and tied it round his. He was left with a ponytail, low and loose at the back of his neck.

It was out of the way, simply - it reminded him a little of how she used to wear her own hair a few years ago.

"There. How's that?"

"Fine… Thank you."

:

* * *

Tifa heard the doorbell ring. Pardoning herself from Vincent's presence, she ran down the stairs as steadily as she could in her heels – re-tying her hair as she went - and found Denzel already opening the door. Cloud entered the lounge with Yuffie, and both of them looked beautiful.

"Ready?" the young man smiled at them, his blue eyes alight. She thought that he really did scrub up quite well – handsomely so.

"Pretty much! How are we getting there?"

"Wait and see; our ride will be over at the monument any minute." Cloud replied. "Where's… Ah. Okay..."

Tifa turned to see Vincent descending the stairs, a reserved sort of look on his face.

Cloud's eyebrows shot up. "Jeeze, I was about to yell intruder. That's quite a change."

Yuffie had simply uttered a small _"whoah"._

Tifa smiled, but felt sorry for the gunman. He was truly under scrutiny now, given his drastic new getup - and she knew he wasn't fond of the attention. He couldn't have appeared more discomfited at that moment.

Marlene, oblivious to this, peered admiringly at the youngest woman. "You look so pretty, Miss Yuffie."

Yuffie, wearing a hugging satin embroidered number and a flower in her hair, beamed at the girl. "Why you look a little picture yourself, sweetypie! C'mon, we can lead the way. We're gonna rule this joint - whaddya say, Princess Marlene?"

Giggling, Marlene took her hand and the two of them went running out of the door.

"Guess that's our cue then…" Tifa smirked. "Shall we?"

Vincent followed as they stepped outside into the cool evening. Tifa locked the door behind them, and they followed Cloud and the girls as they began to make their way through the apartment blocks, in the direction of the meteor monument. Tifa welcomed the cool breeze; she felt flushed, and oddly the male presences in the group seemed to be amplified – she felt their awkwardness and even swore their eyes could have been on her constantly, even if they weren't. It all reminded her of how a girl usually feels before her first Prom… It wasn't the most comfortable of sensations.

Suddenly she began to hear the low whir of engines – and this came not from the ground, but above them. The whir rapidly turned to roaring as what she now realised to be an airship careered over the buildings. The group came to stand in the centre of Edge, not far from the monument, and it turned sharply above them.

"Wow!" exclaimed Denzel. "We're _flying_ to the party? In _this?_"

"Looks like it!" Tifa answered.

Tifa felt herself fill with excitement as The Shera, in all its mass and grandeur, came to hover low over the monument. The air whipped at their faces as a great ramp extended from the back, and Cloud beckoned for them all to follow him.

The children wore expressions of wonder as they all entered the ship. Yuffie, however, uttered a groan of despair.

"Great, well there better be a bucket in the cockpit," she grumbled, "cos if the bastard makes one jerk turn I'll spew."

The ramp closed noisily behind them once they were all inside, and a massive figure strode forward to meet them - that of their friend Barret. Marlene ran happily into his arms.

"Lookin' sharp, kids!" He boomed, scooping up his daughter and perching her on his shoulders. He looked at them all. "And don' you say nothin' bout my damn suit. Cid ain't givin' me the end of it."

"You look great, big guy," Tifa grinned. She thought it was sweet of him to make such an effort; she was so sure he was going to turn up in cargo pants and a string vest.

They were all met with crushing hugs by a radiant-looking Shera as they reached the glass cockpit, and the anticipated crass yet somehow endearing greeting from Cid, who stood proud and upright at the wheel.

"I'm stunned!" Shera smiled widely, clasping her hands together. "So many of our guests have made it. Seems you're all eager to get involved in a happy occasion!"

"And hell, they freakin' should be!" Cid replied vociferously from the wheel. "Sure, we had a reunion not too long ago – but what was goin' through our minds when it happened? That's right: goddamn silver-haired lady-men. So y'all better enjoy this like it's the party of your lives, or so help me I'll marry my wife a third time and throw another one."

Suddenly the pilot turned around, shooting a purposefully narrow-eyed look at Vincent, who raised a brow.

"Yeah that's right, _Vince_." Cid continued. "So brood, and I'll castrate ya."

"Unless you want yours in a box before you can reach me, Highwind, I wouldn't advise it."

Cid continued to glare at him until an uncontrollable grin spread across his face and he burst into laughter, setting off the rest of the group as well. Vincent, unsurprisingly, seemed utterly unfazed – the two men had a history of consistently winding each other up. Tifa recalled fondly that back in the day, listening to their taunts would get her through many a battle.

Cid wiped his eye, letting his laughter diminish. He shook his head and shot Vincent another look, adding finally - "Nice ponytail by the way, prince charming."

:

As dusk arrived they touched down outside the beautiful old town of Kalm, a decidedly apt venue for the occasion, gently lit up before them as they left the ship and walked through. Remarkably – though she tottered a little and wore a slightly white face – Yuffie had come out having managed not to be sick. Tifa followed the group as they were lead to the outskirts, where a grand town hall stood. When the inviting sounds of chattering people and gentle music began to grow, Tifa realized there had been a vast marquee set up in the elegant grounds behind the building.

It was glorious. Lanterns and candles glowed underneath the canvas, its supporting poles garlanded with green vines. Smells of fresh air, grass and spices filled the atmosphere. A jazz band played unobtrusively at the foot of the marquee. Tifa instantly felt welcome, and smiled as she recognized many of the faces she saw.

The happy couple was greeted with warmth, and thereafter so were the new arrivals. Four Turks were here; Reno and Rude, Tseng and Elena. Reeve Tuesti - most strikingly presented - had risen from his chair and shaken all their hands. It delighted Tifa to see that Elmyra, too, was here. She met them in pale pink with a tearful smile, quickly ducking down to wrap her arms around an overjoyed Marlene.

Their arrival made Tifa slightly emotional. To be around all these people stirred memories of all sorts, but now they were collected together in one large union – and this was something quite extraordinary. She felt as though she were in amongst a large extended family.

This was turning out to be exactly how she always imagined a wedding – or a re-wedding, even – should feel.

:

They had all stood to watch as the jolly town minister took the ceremony. Cid and Shera hadn't the most conventional of vows to exchange – ("For as long as you make me tea and blow up my machines, you're embedded in my heart like an old bolt…") – but by all means, Tifa couldn't imagine them repeating anything different. By the end of it she could feel her eyes welling up; the couple kissed, and applause resounded from the grounds.

"We're fuckin' married – again!" Cid yelled, pumping a fist in the air and clutching his joyful wife close. "Now you have the option of either getting wasted at this here open bar or dancing to that there band – or both. Enjoy!"

There was much mirth to follow, and the champagne was promptly opened. After Yuffie had toasted to "many more years of goddamn tea and broken machinery", the band began to play and the guests scattered about the marquee. Marlene had wanted to dance right away, and so on the wooden decking of the dancefloor Barret had taken her tiny hands, moving about to the music with what truly seemed like a little princess balanced on his hefty feet.

"I always liked this tune."

Tifa turned around, a glass of champagne in hand nearly finished. "Me too."

Cloud held out a hand. "Fancy putting me to horrible shame while it plays?"

She laughed, the bubbles in her drink causing her to hiccup. "Are you asking me to dance?"

He rolled his eyes. "That outrageous, huh..?"

"I'd be more than happy, Cloud."

He was ever so clumsy, but as they danced together to the jovial tune playing it didn't really matter. She was spun round so many times she felt dizzy. The two of them mouthed the words of the song at each other through grins and surfacing laughter. Tifa caught glimpses of what was going on as they went: Reno happily chugging down a glass of something, Tseng and Rude in conversation, the wedded couple on the dancefloor – and Vincent, standing next to Reeve (who appeared to be doing the majority of the talking, but at least the quiet gunman wasn't sitting on his own somewhere.) As she clutched Cloud's hand and let him spin her again, she spotted Vincent looking in her direction. As usual, his fine face quickly turned aside as their eyes met. She continued to dance, but the sound of the music dulled in her ears as the tall dark stature of her friend continued to catch her attention… she became distracted upon each intermittent glance. Augmented was Vincent Valentine's mysterious allure under those lanterns, and she felt that despite how morose he always seemed to be, he really was quite… magnificent to look at.

Cloud let out a long breath as the song finished, jolting her back to reality. "Look around. I'm convinced the majority of these people think I've got a screw loose. And Barret – he's friggin' _laughing_ at me."

Tifa beamed. "Want me to fetch you a drink?"

His brow knitted. "Oh yeah, great idea. Glum ol' Spikey prances about the place like an idiot and now he's an alcoholic. That'll get people talking…"

Tifa only continued to smirk at him.

"…Fine, go grab me a whisky."

:

* * *

"Quite the situation we're all in," Reeve said, "Don't you think?"

Vincent was watching Cid and Shera step across the floor in a close dance. "It would seem so."

Reeve's charismatic smile deepened the fine lines on his face. "I'll be honest, Vincent. I hadn't quite prepared myself for some of the things I'm seeing... I mean, look at that."

He gestured to where Reno was crouched next to the two children, entertaining them with ridiculous facial expressions and party tricks. Vincent observed them in their collective happiness and admitted to himself that it was slightly bewildering to him too.

"And look at _you_," Reeve continued, "it just goes to show things never stay the same way for long, right?"

The man left Vincent with a knowing smile and made his way over to where Tifa and Cloud stood, engaging them in conversation. Vincent considered those words a while as he stood leaning on a vine-adorned tent pole, feeling the warmth of the lights above, catching the somehow welcoming scent of the town and his surroundings. He had felt reluctance as they all arrived, but once the ceremony had finished he had become less so; been washed over with a sort of absent, dazed calm. He would have blamed it on the drink if it weren't that he knew, quite confidently, that the aura of love and happiness radiating beneath this marquee was something he could not simply ignore – nor even be brought down by; it was not within his morals to scorn the tenderness between others.

And love suited Tifa, he thought, as his gaze strayed once again to the woman in her deep blue dress. She now danced hand in hand with Yuffie in the middle of the decking, her bright smile unwavering. The women laughed, spun each other around, caught each other in their arms. They formed a little circle as young Marlene joined them - like three sisters, absorbed in their affection. Enjoying the music, the company. Having fun.

He felt instantly as if he were the presence under that canopy with the least to offer; no laughter to add, nothing to share that wouldn't dampen the mood. Though he remained calm and to some degree contented as he watched, he did not appreciate his own distance from everyone else. He thought he should probably find somebody to talk to – if not for his own sake, then for Cid and Shera's.

Luckily, someone had come to him.

"Uh, Vincent Valentine?"

Elena's remarkably petite frame was ever more apparent in her plain black dress. The blonde woman was clutching her shawl and peering almost admiringly – if a little nervously – up at him.

"I know it's been a pretty long time," she fiddled with the material as she spoke, "but I never got the opportunity to thank you properly, for helping Tseng and I those months ago."

Vincent knew what she spoke of. He recalled how he had found the two Turks exhausted and ferociously injured in the bleak capital before he had reunited with Cloud. Their journey from the North Crater had taken them precariously close to death's door, and though the history between them and AVALANCHE was certainly less than amicable, Vincent appeared to have reversed this bitterness when he rescued them and took them to be healed. He knew, however, that Elena's gratefulness came primarily from the fact that Tseng - a man she had doted over in the least subtle way possible for years - was saved from yet another grizzly end.

"You needn't thank me." Vincent replied.

"On the contrary - " a male voice added to the conversation. Tseng joined them and placed a hand on Elena's arm. "I rather thought we hadn't shown nearly enough gratitude."

Vincent looked down. "Well. I assure you that it's noted."

Tseng smiled – it was a new sight. "I know it's been quite some time since you last wore the blue suit, as it were, but… You did remind me of the better among us Turks. You've probably put that part of your life behind you, quite understandably - but maybe you see why I regard your deed as such."

He couldn't disagree. Vincent inclined his head in acknowledgment.

When they left him he saw Tseng's hand find the small of the young woman's back. There was a tell-tale deepness in her eyes as she returned to him a long, ardent look.

In his mind, Vincent challenged himself to guess when he would be witnessing a new set of vows.

:

A while had passed, and Vincent had spoken briefly to nearly everybody. He hadn't moved far. The music had since diminished from the buoyant tunes previous to mellower, sweeter songs. Drink and affection had taken more couples to the dancefloor, this time wrapped more tenderly in their movements. Elena leaned so close into Tseng that she looked as if she could have fallen asleep against his chest. Reeve and Elmyra now took to a careful but graceful waltz. The wedded couple had the centre, Her arms around His neck – and Cid, smiling, had never appeared so serene.

Vincent thoroughly expected to see Cloud up there dancing as amorously with Tifa as the other couples, but it was not so. Cloud instead appeared to be next to the bar helping Rude steady an indisputably drunken Reno, while Tifa stood directly on the opposite side of the tent, listening to Barret as he spoke to her. The burly man occasionally glanced across at Vincent.

"All the ladies look so nice in their dresses, don't you think?"

Vincent was caught by surprise at the sound of the little girl's voice. Marlene, at some point, had come to stand next to him.

He looked at her, and then glanced unthinkingly not at Yuffie, or Elena, or Shera or Elmyra but at the strong dark-haired woman on the other side of the marquee. He gave a brief nod and, in his deep thought, absently replied with "…Very much so."

"But I think Tifa looks the most pretty tonight." The child smiled, admiring the woman ahead of her as a subject might admire her Queen. "Would you agree, Vincent?"

The gunman would ordinarily have struggled to answer said question for fear of how he might come across. But this child was unassuming in her innocent conjecture – unlike a canny adult, who could easily have asked him the same thing to probe for a deeper meaning. And so, Vincent could be nothing but truthful to her.

"…Yes, I do."

The delicate melody coming from the band's acoustic guitar wound through the air, rising above the cellist's bowing and the soft percussion. In his contemplation he thought it matched her, Tifa, as she swayed gently from side to side to the rhythm. The effect of whatever little alcohol he'd consumed had worn off Vincent's system long ago, but he had frozen unwittingly in that comfortable, removed sort of gaze that came with the warmth of drunkenness.

"I guess you don't like dancing much."

Vincent was startled yet again as he realised the child was still next to him. "…Let's say I don't think I'm quite willing to put on the kind of display Cloud did earlier."

Marlene giggled. "I don't blame you. But what about the slow songs, like this one? Don't you like to do what they're all doing?"

Raising his brow, Vincent looked at her. "I think that's the sort of thing that would require a partner; I'd look pretty foolish waltzing around on my own."

Though she had grinned, Marlene suddenly pursed her lips in apparent thought. Before he knew it, she had bounded across the dancefloor and grabbed Tifa's hand, starting to talk to her.

Vincent grew increasingly wary as he received glances from both of them. What was the child telling her? When the woman was taken by the hand and lead towards him, Vincent froze. He knew immediately what was coming, though he hadn't quite accepted it, and steeled himself.

"There, now you can both dance!" the girl proclaimed cheerily, grasping Vincent's right hand and giving it to Tifa, whose cheeks flushed.

For a moment the two of them stood immobilized before each other, hands joined. But Tifa's composure seemed to be winning over, and she straightened up, giving him an apologetic sort of smile. She gestured vaguely at the child with her eyes, which in words he could have assumed was "_looks like we don't have a choice."_

He swallowed sharply.

"Shall we dance?" Tifa smiled.

That single nod seemed to be the only thing he could muster. Their hands stayed joined as she stepped backwards onto the decking, and – not wanting to appear unsettled – Vincent placed his other hand lightly on the side of her waist. Hers found his shoulder. And at that moment, as if on cue, the song finished and a new one began – one that was even slower, and swelled with the opulent notes of a far deeper, more romantic melody. The singer had softened her voice. And just as he thought it could get no more surreal, he swore some of the lanterns had been dimmed.

The reflections glittered in her mahogany eyes.

He took the first step. His dance partner followed, taking her own step back. Before he could fully appreciate what was happening, they were moving gradually round the dancefloor.

'_I know this face I'm wearing now…'_

Dancing was a familiar ability. He had been taught, long ago – by a lady whose image flashed in front of Tifa's for a second, then ebbed away with a twinge of pain. It could have consumed him at that very moment, and he'd have apologized; left her, encouraged Cloud to take over. He would have gone away, to think about the way Lucrecia had taken his hands and directed his steps, all those decades ago…

But something rooted him there, when he was taken back to the present by the feeling of gentle fingers entwined in his own - and these thoughts flickered away as soon as Tifa spoke.

"Have you been practicing or something?" she smiled inquisitively at him.

'_Don't give me this feeling; I'll only believe it…'_

Vincent had to pry his distracted mind from the singer's words. "No… it's been a very long time, but I suppose these things stay with you."

"Kinda like riding a bike, as they say…" Tifa mused. "Well Vincent, it's an honour. You'll be putting me to shame at this rate!"

"…I doubt that."

Her face softened as she looked up at him. Beneath the golden lights her skin glowed, her hair catching shimmers as they moved. But he couldn't stare at her like that for too long, and evidently neither could she; their gaze faltered. Vincent tried to look elsewhere, but he knew he must have appeared thoroughly awkward and immediately felt stupid doing so.

'_You know, I don't have any choice…'_

His sight found its way back to Tifa, who appeared to be staring absently into his chest. She, too, peered shyly back up at his face again – and smiled a luminously sweet smile. He accepted, as the music played on, that they had moved closer together. He knew at some point his hand had strayed from her waist to somewhere on her lower back, and he knew that she was not perturbed in the slightest. He also knew, as he looked briefly over the hair brushing at his chin, that many sets of eyes were now upon them.

But despite that others were there, and looking, he could not see them any longer. Even the ever-inquisitive blue gaze of Cloud Strife eventually disappeared into the background.

The music progressed and so did the ease between them as they swayed – rather than danced by now – along to its languid rhythm. He felt her as she leaned against him, her hips shifting beneath the material of her dress, her breath close to his neck. For some reason, Vincent no longer cared to think about the situation. As if something had clicked into place, he realised he held an innate willingness to protect this woman – his friend – from anything that might harm or distress her… So he continued to hold her, hoping she could somehow detect this.

But he knew she could. When it came to the presence of others, she seemed just as unconcerned as he. They were protecting one another, from the eyes that were locked onto them and their rare dance.

'_Make it real…'_

He hadn't needed shelter from anything, it seemed – up until now.

'…_Or take it all away.'_

As the instruments quietened and the singer gave her last note, Vincent slowed his movement. Tifa followed suit, but stayed close to him. Her head was turned to the side, her cheek against his jacket. Her hand stayed clutched in his. Though he felt reluctant to break the somehow reassuring contact they held, the song had now ended - and any more time spent in each other's arms may not have appeared to others how they had meant it to. Tifa seemed to be thinking the same, but there was hesitation in the way she raised her head and lowered her arms from his.

Neither of them said anything – rather, they seemed not to have the need. Instead they looked at each other almost appreciatively for a moment, as if they both recognised their simple dance had granted them a taste of freedom; banished awkwardness, wrought understanding. And it was then, when she gave him a lopsided little smile, that Vincent decided he might have found a dearer friend in Tifa than he thought.

"Alright, let's give our musicians a big hand!"

Shera's voice resounded from the front of the marquee. Vincent and Tifa joined in the applause that followed.

"Listen up, yo!" Reno staggered to the decking and raised a finger. "It's nearly that time – _hic!_ – but we sure as hell ain' leavin' this shindig on the last note o' the sloppiest song. That's for pussies, man. _Hic!_ So since me an' my buddy Rude are, like, the dynamite masters of the _universe_, we got a… flashy little surprise fer y'all. Now get your asses – _hic_ - outside!"

Owing to the level of Reno's inebriation, everyone looked to Rude – who confirmed this with a nod. They compliantly stepped out from beneath the canvas, and Vincent saw Reno stumble out with something in his arms before Rude, sober, took it from him with a warning look and muttered - "Forget it – you're in no state to do that."

The Turk strode out further into the grounds, where a number of what looked like miniature rockets sat in a cluster. He bent down next to them, lit something, and hurried back. Before they all knew it, the sky was dazzling them.

Jets of coloured light and fire screeched into the air, crashing and glittering in vast patterns above the spellbound guests. It was likely to be the most extravagant firework display Vincent had encountered - and the same could be said for the others, who uttered their delight and watched the spectacle with wonder. Cid cheered and wrapped his arm around his wife, whose hands were clasped over her beaming mouth: they hadn't been expecting this.

Vincent watched the rest of the display at Tifa's side, taking it in; observing the light dance, listening to the thunderous explosions. He thought he could see her looking at him out of the corner of his eye – and if she was, he wondered why: the fireworks surely made for a far more interesting sight…

Then, he saw a hand around her shoulder. It belonged to Cloud, who had appeared at the other side of her. The young man showed warmth, watching the fireworks with them – but he stood with purpose. Tifa leaned on him slightly in return, though her arms and hands remained stationary at her sides.

:

Vincent had not wished to hang around as everyone drew out their thanks, goodnights and farewells; he had only bid his to whoever chose to approach him. He wasn't good at that sort of thing. They had all gone their ways for now; Barret had let the children stay with Elmyra, while Yuffie had left with Reeve to resume their commitments with the WRO. Others had their own places to be – the married couple evidently had their second honeymoon to begin - and Elena had disappeared somewhere inconspicuously with her sharp-faced superior. This left Vincent to join Tifa and Cloud as they were flown back to Edge City in Reno and Rude's helicopter.

The intoxicated redhead had fallen asleep in the front, leaving his companion with the role of Designated Flyer. In the cabin, Vincent and Cloud sat either side of Tifa. Having exhausted any conversation earlier, all three were silent. Enough time had passed that Tifa's eyes were now fluttering shut, and somewhere along the line, her head ended up nestled against Vincent's shoulder.

She was fast asleep, and he hadn't the heart to disturb her by sitting her upright. In a fleeting glance he caught Cloud's gaze straying to her, before the eyes of the two men met for a split second and the younger looked away. Vincent noted that in that split second, Cloud's expression had changed into something laced with slightly more displeasure than unease – and the gunman knew, immediately, that something had changed. As Cloud kept his eyes away and Tifa slept on, Vincent suddenly felt as if he'd made himself a factor in an elusive complication that, until now, didn't concern him.

He couldn't shake that unpleasant sensation of having stepped onto unsafe ground.

:

* * *

:

_A/N: Well I swore I'd never use song lyrics in my stories, but somehow I thought it served as a good way of getting Vincent's mind to wander in that over-analytical way of his. I'm not even nuts about the song: it's 'Don't Say' by The Corrs - but it seemed to be the kind of warm, simple-worded ballad that suited the theme of music I imagined there to be at that party. Take it or leave it - it's there now ;)_


End file.
